Connections through Time
by Shall-Iin
Summary: Garion is the last survivor of his world. Charged to live until peace reigns. He's watched eons pass, and now longs for the Eternal Slumber. But only 1 thing can grant that desire. An object he gave up long ago, and which has now left this world: Once the
1. Chap 1

Here's another story idea I couldn't get out of my head.

For those waiting eagerly for my others, sorry. I just needed a break and this came to me while I was reading the books. I don't expect a lot to come of this, and it won't be me top priority, but It's festered in my brain and needs to come out.

I am still working on my others, mainly my HP/Ranma story Magic vs. Martial Arts, and my Farscape/ST:TNG story Displacement of Time and Space. I am slowly fleshing out more for my other storys, Two Tiger's Tales, a Ranma/Garg/SF/other xover, and getting some ideas together for the sequel to State of Mine and a follow up to Introductions and Farewells(Babylon 5 story). I am also currenlty writting a Witchblade/Xmen xoover.

So for all my readers, please don't worry if you're reading this and find it's not what you thought it would be. I am working on my stories. Just, sometimes, I get creative spurts that throw out a lot of stuff in a short time, and then nothing for a while. I can promise that this time, it won't be as long as it was the last time(no more 4-5 months between updates. a week, 2 tops)

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from belgariad more then 30x each, and the mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

There are a lot of similarities between the two series, and it always struck me in the back of my mind that Eddings did it on purpose to possibly write a future novel connecting the two series.

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Aphreal shot up with a short cry of alarm. She could feel the aproach of a dark force. Something hideous and powerful and unkown to her. Yet she also felt the aproach of a force for good. A sense of will and determination beyond any her immortal mind could comprehend. A feeling of such strength and force that it was powerful enough to wake her from a sound sleep and shake her enough to lose focus and shift to her true form in place of her now teenage Danae body.

There were no details in her mind, just those two powerful, opposing feelings of Dark and Light comming to face each other for an innevitable confrontation. The only image clear in her mind was of a blue jewel, and spherical jewel of deepest blue, shinning forth a powerful light. It reminded her strongly of Bheliom, but the feeling from the sphere was less belligerent. It seemed almost playful and innocent, though also vindictive and strict. It was attached to something, something she couldn't quite make out. It was the center of the coming conflict, as both the force of Darkness she felt, and the force of Light, were projecting it's image powerfully into her mind.

She slowly shifted from her glowing adult form to her childlike form of Flute, before slipping out of bed. She looked at the empty bed for a moment, and frowned. She concentrated and her body seemed to become shapeless. It split into two and soon 14year old Princess Danae was studying a roughly 6-7year old Flute.

"I think you should go get father and have him come to the chapterhouse. I'll go see the family and visit with the Elene god." Flute stated in her high voice.

Danae nodded and smiled at the child. "I hope he's not too mad at us for stealing Talen." she stated with a sly smirk.

Flute rolled her eyes at her older doppleganger. "I still don't get what you like about him so much."

Danae giggled. "It's not something anyone your age would understand, Flute. I sure am glad I got father to assign him as my bodyguard. I've been able to keep an eye on him and warn off the other girls from him."

Flute again rolled her eyes, and then stuck her tongue out at the other girl. "I'm not sure why you want to get married, it seems a bit bothersome to me. All that kissing and loveydovey talk."

Danae giggled again. "Don't worry Flute. Once we're joined again, you'll understand why again too. Any way, go. That sending was incredibly powerful and I doubt if nobody else felt it. I wouldn't be surprised if several of the Thousand or some of the Knights didn't feel it."

Flute nodded, turned and disappeared while Danae took a moment to make sure of her appearance in the mirror, running her brush through her shoulder length hair. her father would no doubt call for those of his friends who were near, and that meant that Talen would be there. And she would not hinder her pursuit of the Pandion novice/thief by allowing him to see her at less then her best until after their wedding night.

As she slid out the door and down the hall to her parent's apartments, trailed aas always by the night guard that stood outside her door. Before waking her parents however, a thought came to the sometimes Goddess' mind. "Maybe I should have sent an older version of myself to see Eriond. He's the oldest and most powerful of us and we might need his intervention to deal with this new threat. And he dislikes my usual methods." she frowned, then shrugged. "Oh well, too late now. He'll just have to deal with me as Flute is."

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POV BREAK

In the silence of the forest, few night creatures were stirring. There was a foreign presence shutting down the usual night time activities of the creatures who dwelt here. Something unusual and unnatural was prowling the usually busy forest and the native population was hidding in fear. There was an unsettling aura being projected by the new resident that stalked through the undergrowth.

A grey, lowslung form crawled foreward on it's four legs. It's nose was held close to the ground, and it's shaggy tail was sweeping the ground behind it. Occassionaly, the great muzzled head would rise up and glance to each side before lowering back to the ground.

Wolves were not native to this part of the country, and any woodsmen who saw it's tracks would fear the worste. Panic would spread, and traps and hunters would come out in force. So the wolf was forced to move carefully, and erase it's presence from the minds of the men and other intelligent beings it passed. Luckily, this was not a normal wolf, which made this task much easier.

The wolf was hunting, but not for food. It searched for something it had lost long ago, and needed if it was to find peace. It had wandered the world in this form for longer then most could comprehend, usually remaining far beyond any of the lands of men and feeding on the near immortal trolls of the northern lands. It had felt the stirring of great power and a familiar tingling it had not felt in more centuries then there were teeth in it's mouth. It had rejoiced at the feeling, but it's hopes dashed as it felt the withdrawal of the power from the world.

Now it sought the last traces of the missing power, in hopes of somehow calling it back for a final use. The wolf was weary of it's long, lonely life. It had outlived all the members of it's pack, and made the former pack-leader's long life seem nothing more then a blink of time compared to it's own. It had lived easily 5 time's the former pack-leader's 10 millenia, and could find no rest, even as it had watched his pack mates give themselves up into oblivion's embrace. It had lived for so long with no hope of rest and wished nothing more then to find peace in eternal sleep, but had grown too powerful for the normal means to aid his hopes. It needed the lost power to overcome it's ingrained will to survive.

The wolf paused as it's sensitive nose caught the scent of approaching men. The men were wearing armor and carrying steel, and travelled through the woods nearly as silently as the wolf itself.

Curious inspite of it's own apathy, the wolf decided to follow the men. They carried with them the scent of dried blood, and not animal scent either. These were not hunters out for the evening. At least, not hunters of pelts or food. These were hunters of men, and had a prey they sought.

Tracking the man scent and racing ahead, he caught another scent trail. This was similar to that of the hunters, but there was more metal, and he could also smell the strong odor of horses. The hunters had only feint traces of the horse-odor, so chances where they had left their horses a day or so behind and proceeded the rest of the way after these other men on foot.

There was only two men in the small encampent. One was a huge man reminding the wolf of long dead friends. The other was a smaller, but still large man. Each was wearing the light armor and gear of hunters, though the wolf's keen senses could detect that there was a great deal more armor in the packs by the horses. He tracked back to the hunters and found them spreading through the woods around the small camp. He counted fifteen of them and wondered what was so special about the two men that the hunters felt they needed to outnumber then at more then 7 to 1.

Deciding to watch unless he was needed, the wolf trotted between two of the hunters, using his special talents to remain unseen eveh though he came close enough that should he have desired, he could have ripped both mens throats out.

The wolf moved to a spot where he'd have a clear view of the proceedings and sat on his haunches to watch. He'd had a lot of time to watch as he waited for a chance to find peace.

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Chapter 2

Sir Ulath and Sir Tynian were conversing quietly in front of their evening fire while their day's catch rested on the spit over the flames. They had already eaten their fill for the night, but would allow the banked coals to warm the meat overnight so they could have fresh meat in the morning. Then they would scatter the remainder of the carcass of the small boar into the forest for the creatures to finish off.

"This has been a pleasant trip, Tynian. It is good to be travelling with you again." Ulath stated before drinking deeply from a wineskin he then passed to his brother knight.

"Yes it has, Ulath. I'm glad you were able to come. I tried a few of the others, but they all had various duties that kept them from coming."

"Did you reach Kring?"

Tynian chuckled and stirred the coals of the fire. "Yes, but he and Mirtai are busy with their second child. And a little project of Mirtai's among the Peloi."

Curious, Ulath glanced around the small clearing. Something was nagging him, but he couldn't sense any danger. His eyes met those of a great wolf, and he paused. The wolf stared at him and he waited, not wanting to provoke the magnificient animal. It was easily the largest wolf he'd ever seen, and he thought it looked familiar. Not as though he'd seen it before, but something about it, it's size and presence tickled his memories. He was surprised when the wolf nodded and seemed to fade from sight back into the darkness beyond the fire.

Blinking, he turned back to Tynian and took the bait. "What project?" he asked idly, pulling his boar spear to him and taking out a flat stone, some oil and a rag. He progressed to sharpening the broad bload, his hand running the wetstone at a 45 degree angle along one side then the other of the edge.

"Mirtai's become something of a legend among the Peloi. You know how they are. Some fool got it in his head to challenge her, and after she thrashed him, his friends took exception and went after her. After she'd beat them all off, word spread and others left her alone, letting her do things as she wished. Kring of course was immensely pleased and proud of her. Not long after, some of the Peloi woman brought their young girls and boys to Mirtai, begging her to teach them her skills. So she's now got about 40 of the little ones, from ages 4 to 14, all learning-and living- the martial life of Atans. And Kring it seems, has managed to convince the Atans that horses aren't as worthless as they'd believed. So now, he's breeding ever larger horses and teaching a section of Atan and Atanna youth to become cavalry."

Ulath gave a fake shudder at the words. "By all the gods, that is an awful thought! Atan Cavalry? They're dangerous enough as it is, let along training them to fight on horseback. And think of the sheer size of the horses they must need to be usefull. How could they feed an army of beasts that size without causing famine?"

Tynian shook his head at the thought. "That's something else. Kring's not only breeding a larger horse, he's breeding them to need as much food as normal horses, and to be able to last longer without water."

"How he's doing that, I don't want to think about." Ulath stated as he paused in his sharpening to scratch his beard. "Have you heard from any one else, lately? It's been years since we've seen everyone."

Tynian nodded and leaned back to rest his head on his bedroll. "I received word from Bevier. All's going well with him, but his duties with his Church and family stopped him from coming. I also reached Khaled, and he gave me word of what's happening at Cimmuria. Berit's doing well, though he tends to be a bit stiff around Sparhawk. Surprisingly, Talen's turning into a fine novitiate. He's become a skilled swordsman and rider, and filled out a lot since we last saw him. Sadly for him, he's had to give up his former night time hobbies."

"Oh, how's that?" the hulking northerner asked. He turned the blade around, and started on the second edge.

"He's grown into his family. He's too wide shouldered and muscular now to make an effective sneak thief and burglar. From what Khaled says, he's become quite powerful. He still draws though. Khaled sent a few of Talen's latests. Appareantly, Sparhawk got the idea that instead of wasting his artistic talents, they could use them, and they have him drawing works that they sell at various markets. They're using a thin little man as cover though, since no one would believe Talen could do them. They send them to various markets in dangerzones as a means of hidding their order members in plain sight as guards for the little man. Usually, Talen will go with them, and pretend to be the man's bodyguard. From what I understand, though, Danae doesn't like that."

Ulath chuckled. "I can see why. The little princess doesn't want to risk her future husband on such foolishness. I still don't understand why Pandions insist on those little games. I know we don't. If we need to know something, we ask. If we don't like the answers, we break fingers until we learn what we need."

Tynian nodded in the dark. "But from what I understand, Danae's finally got her way. Talen won't be going back out anymore. He's been assigned as the princess' personal bodyguard. Though from what Khaled told me, Sparhawk's been unusually rough lately on our little thief."

Ulath roared with laughter. "I wonder why! Sparhawk probably fears Talen more then he ever feared Kael or Ortha. They only wanted to kill him or steal his soul. Danae wants Talen as her husband and what father any were willingly gives up their little girl to her husband." The large man tested the edge and was satisfied when it cut cleanly through the tough hide of the boar on the spit. He then when to work on the crossbar, making sure it was still sound.

"Speaking from experience, my friend?" Tynian asked.

Ulath grunted. "Never had the chance for family. Too busy fighting evil and beating back trolls and ogres."

Tynian snorted. "I grew up in a large family. It's often a hassle, but there are moments when it's worth it."

Ulath tested the blades, and finding everything satisfactory, he put away his kit and set the broad spear next to him. He took a final slice from the warm carcass of the small boar, and leaned back onto his own bedroll. "Should we set watch?"

Tynian shrugged, then realized that even near the fire, it was too dark for Ulath to see the gesture. "I don't think we need it. There shouldn't be any one around for at least a full day's ride. We picked a great place to come hunting this time, my friend."

Barely were Tynian's words out of his mouth when a screaming throng of men came running out of the woods. The knights barely had time to role out of the way before arrows lodged into their pillows. Ulath reacted first, roaring out with a bellow of his own as he snatched up the spear he'd been sharpening and threw it towards the nearest of the charging men. The broad blade struck the man in the stomach and went through, severing his spine. Trailing guts from it's barbs, it went through, not even stopped by the crossbar until it struck a man following too closely to his fellow and slammed into his stomach until the point stuck out the mans back. For a moment, both men stood, connected by the length of the spear pole before both collapsed.

After throwing the spear, Ulath was weaponless. His axe hung from the saddle of the great bay on a stump near where the horses were tied. Tynian was only slightly more prepared, as he had take nthe habit long ago of sleeping with his sword nearby. Both had also brought bows, but they too were with the horses.

Seeing that his large friend was in need of a weapon, Tynian went for the nearest man, who had paused at seeing two of his compatriots spitted by the powerful throw. He quickly disembowled the man, taking his mace and whistling for Ulath's attention. When the large man glanced at him, he tossed the weapon and watched as the man caught it and turn in one move, crushing the chest of a third man and sending the body crashing into another. A slice of air near his face forced him to focus on his own battle, and he parried a second swing of a rusted blade before running his opponent through. He kicked the body off his blade and brought it up just in time to catch a third swing at his head. Soon he was too busy to worry about his friend in the battle for their lives.

The men continued to attack, despite the quick loss of several of their allies. They might not be the best fighters either had ever faced, but they had numbers on their side, and were more used to pitched battles of the current type then either of the knights, who were far more used to fighting with others of their own nature then each other. It was the main purpose why the orders had assigned Ulath, Tynian, and Bevier to join Sparhawk on his quest to cure the Elanian queen. While Tynian and Ulath had some experience fighting side-by-side, neither was trully comfortable doing so without any one else to aid them. Their fighting styles and training where too different without the moderating of Sparhawk and Berit's Pandion training, or Bevier's training in his chapter.

The were soon back to back, facing a ring of men. There were six dead, but that still left the pair outnumbered. The remaining members of the attckers were obivously the more experienced. They'd likely not had much formal training, but had spent most of their lives living in the rougher parts of the world and were experienced ambush fighters. They were typical brigands and mercenaries, with no affiliation except to gold.

There was pause as the 7 remaining men circled to surround the knights. Ulath and Tynian also moved, trying to keep the fire between them and some of the men. They were the best of their chapters, but they held no illusions. They were in trouble and knew it. They were now able to count the men, and the dead, and wondered why 13 men had attacked the pair of them. Then they checked the dead men and the living, and realized that none of the 13 the could see were carrying bows, yet their bedrolls each contained a couple of arrows. Just as the thought occured to them, two more men stepped from the shadow recesses of the forest into the light cast by their dimming fire. They each had arrows noched and ready, though not quite pulled, as they were waiting for their fellows to move to better positions.

"Well, Tynian. I did promise you an exciting time on this hunt, didn't I?" Ulath asked, holding the captured mace in one hand, and a short sword in the other. One of the men swung, and Ulath blocked it with the mace, hitting the handle of the man's short axe and breaking it. The axe head buried itself in the soft ground and the man backed off. Instead of standing like a fool, the man went over to the pair of men still held together by the board spear, and grabbed the bastard sword the first man had been carrying before returning to fill his spot in the semi circle around the pair.

"I wasn't expecting this much excitement, Ulath. I thought we would be the hunters, not the hunted." Tynian stated drily, blocking a pair of weak swipes from one of the men.

Ulath glanced over to the dead men and the spear. "You know, that was my favorite spear. My father had it made for me when I reached age to join my first hunt. I've had to reshaft it three times, but the blade has been true for more then 25 years. And now, there's no way I'll be able to save it. That second man is wearing chainmail. Weak, rusted, and old, true, but mail nonetheless. Running thorugh that rusted heap would chip and dull the blade to uselessness."

"I'm sure that the men are sorry they made you kill them with it, friend Ulath. Maybe you'll be able to salvage something from their bodies once we've killed the rest of them."

"You won't be killing anyone, Alcione. You and your Genidian friend are dead. And once we've finished you, we're going after the rest of your allies. We've been paid well, and this is only a small sampling of our army. Soon, you church knights and your blasphemous Styric witches will burn." One of the archers, both of who were dressed better then the assorted soldiers, spoke. The archers were also better equiped, and were wearing new armor and the bows were obviously well crafted and cared for. Both archers were tall, well groomed, and the accent was one neither man had ever heard.

Ulath and Tynian exchanged glances and sighs. "Not again. I'm too old for this, friend Tynian."

The blond Alcione snorted. "Just imagine what Sparhawk is going to say when we tell him."

"Enough! Neither of you will be telling any one anything! Except for the example of what will be done to your corpses once you're dead!" shouted the second archer, drawing up the bow and pulling back the string. The first archer copied and both arrows flashed through the air, dead center on Ulath and Tynian's chest.

The knights knew that at this range, and without any armor, there was no chance of the archers missing or the arrows being deflected. They began to say silent prayers as time seemed to slow for the pair. Their time on this world was ended and they prepared for the next.

The arrows had travelled half of the 20 yard distance when a large blurry shape flashed across the visions of all in the clearing. The arrows vanished with the flash and Ulath and Tynian were left standing, staring at the empty air that had seconds before held their imminent death. The faces of the arhcers were equally astonished, and they both quickly drew another arow from their quivers, but froze before drawing back at the sound of a low, throaty growl coming from the trees. All heads turned to face that way, as the men shifted nervously.

The growl grew in intensity as a large grey wolf stalked out of the forest. Clasped in the wolf's teeth was the pair of arrows that had been shot towards the knights. The strong jaws of the huge creature clenched, and the shafts shattered under the pressure. The wolf was easily the largest of it's kind any of those in the clearing had ever seen, been at least twice the normal height at the shoulder then the usual wolf. It looked the size of a coal or large mule, but built more like an oxen with it's wide, powerful shoulders, and thick covering of coarse fur. The teeth, of which none of the men wished to become acquainted, were easily the size of a grown mans finger, and as sharp as any of the blades the men carried.

The wolf stalked forward until it was between the archers and the soldiers. The second archer panicked, and drew and fired an arrow at the wolf. The wolf moved nimbly to one side, then turned it's head and flashed it's powerful jaws, again catching the arrow in mid air. Then, in an incredible display, the head spun, and the shaft flew back towards the archer, easily piercing the thick leather armor and through the man's upper arm.

Ulath blinked and turned to his old friend as the man's cries of pain filled the clearing. "Did I just see what I thought I saw?"

Tynian also blinking in shock, nodded. "Um, if you think what you just saw was a wolf the size of a small horse first catch, and then throw back an arrow with enough force to pierce through well made plate leather armor and a man's arm over thirty feet away, then yes, Ulath, you did indeed just see what you thought you saw. And I think I saw it too."

The first archer was staring at the wolf in fear, while the second continued to swear and moan in painfilled wails. Blinking back as the wolf seemed to grin and wink at him, the archer drew a shaft and pointed it at the wolf. "I don't know what you are, demon, but if you side with those foul creatures, then you too will burn. Kill them all!" he cried, loosing the arrow and notching a second. The men shook out of their shock and turned back to Tynian and Ulath, but the knights were faster. Before any of the men could threaten the pair, two more were dead, and a second pair were only partially able to block the strikes.

Tynian's blade missed the torso, and sliced off his opponent's left arm. Ulath's short sword was blocked by his man's blade, but the mace found it's mark in shattering a few ribs. Both of the men screamed with pain, and the knights ended their pain with quick backswipes of their blades, coming near to decapitating the injured men.

Now it was the three swordsmen against the pair of knights, and the archer who continued to fire arrows at the wolf, who just as easily caught them and tossed them aside. The second archer was currently whimpering in pain from his knees, clutching the bleeding wound.

Ulath and Tynian grinned ferally to each other as they studied the now trembling trio. "Well friend Tynian, it seems we have a quandary here. There are now four of them and two of us. I believe I have a 1 man lead, and you would need to kill three of the four to win this round. But, I'm feeling generous. I'll allow you to kill two, and will kill only the one myself. We can split the fourth. That would make this round a tie."

"That is right, my friend, but I think you forget something." Tynian said as he lazily blocked a wild swing from one of the remaining men. Nearby, he could see Ulath toying with the other two.

"What's that, my pious brother?" Ulath called back, using both weapons to block the weak and wild attacks of the pair of smaller men he was facing.

"I think our friend the wolf would like to join our little contest." he stated as he nodded towards the archer and wolf. The archer had notched and drew back the last arrow. His attention mostly on the silent confrontation, he blocked a thrust, then made two quick swipes, opening his opponents throat then slicing between the ribs into the heart. He then walked over to the pair Ulath was fighting, and stabbed one through the back, killing him quickly. Spoiled of his fun, Ulath caught the last attacker's wrist, and crushed his skull with the mace.

Together, they turned back to the challenge between the animal and the wolf.

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Chapter 3

Mika deLancour was not a squeamish or fearful man. He'd reveled in debauchery since the day his father gave him his first sword, a bow, and a serf to practice on. He'd gone through many of each on his way to mastering the blade and bow. He'd hunted the world once he'd grown bored of killing helpless men, seeking new entertainments and pleasure in his bland and dull life as his father's heir. He'd hunted the most dangerous creatures known to man, and had never felt fear.

It was not until this night, when a simple assignment from his father's Lord sent him to this clearing chasing down a pair of supposedly drunk and helpless knights that he'd ever feared anything. He respected and honoured his father's dread master, but he'd never feared him before.

Yet, here he was, his aim quavering and his arm shaking as he held the last of his arrows on the largest wolf he had ever seen. It was also the quickest and most agile as he'd never before seen any creature, save a few specially trained acrobats and circus people catch arrows. Anger over powering the rage as he saw the last of his men slaughtered by the knights, he snarled, nearly matching the wolf's own orations and steadied his arm, he let loose, and the wolf leapt forward. He grinned as he watched the arrow strike into the beasts form, piercing just to the left, between the left shoulder and the neck. The arrow bit deeply into the flesh, and straight to the beasts heart.

The wolf crashed to the ground, and he through down the bow, drawing his sabre. Next to him, his companion and current paramour had stopped whining and was now swearing under his breath. He'd also drawn a blade, to dig out the arrow from his arm. Once that was done, he threw down the small dagger, and pulled his rapier before staggering over to join Mika.

"It's the two of us, against the two of you now, knights. We have been trained by the best tutors and swordsmiths in 4 continents. You stand no chance. Your pathetic orders could never have prepared you for our skills."

The knights glanced at each other and began chuckling. Soon though they were doubled over in laughter.

Angered beyond words, Mika and Ginta started forward, only to freeze as the still, dead form of the wolf rose to its feet. Eyes wide with fear, they started to back away. They started to turn to run, but something shimmered in the air around the growling wolf. The arrow was still sticking out of it's body, as with a faint shimmer and blueish glow, the wolf was replaced with the standing form of a nude man. The man was young, still with traces of youth about his face, but with the presence and comfortable ease of self of a grown man. Though his body and face were young, the man's eyes were deep and clear. They seemed to hold the passage of ages within their endless depths. They were the eyes of a man who'd outlived all he'd cared for and who'd dealt more then his own fare share of death. Not even his nudity in the slightly chilled air could detract from the sheer power radiating off him. The pair of mercenaries dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, staring as the naked man approached them.

The man walked forward until he was only a half dozen feet from the pair. His face was set in a frown as he studied them. His head would tilt from side to side as he stared at the trembling pair. He looked around the clearing, not seeming concerned at all by his nudity. He stared for a moment at each of the dead bodies, then the knights, before shaking his head, causing his long dirty blonde hair to wave around his shoulders. His frown deepered for a moment, and then he closed his eyes. The aura of power around him intensified, and for a moment, Tynian and Ulath were certain that one of Aphreal's relatives had arrived. There was a bright flash, and the four onlookers had to turn their heads.

When they looked back, the man was fully clothed, if in a rather outdated manner of dress. On his back, there seemed to be a rather large sword, looking heavier then a normal man could lift. The man turned back to the groveling pair, who were now convinced that they were facing a demon. Through out all this, the arrow remained lodged in his chest, in the exact spot on a man that it would be for a wolf.

Ulath and Tynian had quietly made their way to the horses, grabbing their shields and Ulath his proper weapons. They then slowly and quietly made their way so that they too stood in the odd man's line of sight. The man noticed them, and opened his mouth to speak, but blood poured out of it. He closed his mouth and scowled down at the pair. He then reached up and grasped the arrow's shaft, pulling sharply. Tynian tried to sound out for him to stop, as the arrow head was barbed, but the man drew the sharp, spiked arrow from his chest before the knight could sound out the first breath.

Ulath and Tynian winced as a stream of flesh and gore were riped out of the man's chest. Even the man's rib was pulled out by the barbs and was sticking out of his chest. Neither could understand how the man could even stand let alone continue to live with such a grievous injury. They could see the pulsing flesh of the man's heart and the slow inflation and deflation of his lung.

The man stared down at his own chest, then snorted, sending a spray of blood over the two prostrate forms. He brought his hand up to his chest, covering the wound. A small sound escaped, and there was another sensation of flowing power shaking Tynian and Ulath. The man withdrew his hand, and though it was still bloody, they could see that the wound was healed.

"Now, that's better." the man said in a voice that was obviously long unused. "Any one want to tell me what was going on here?" he asked looking down at the men who'd lead the ambush.

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In the remotest parts of the world, and in the most populous, all those sensitive to the nature of the world shot awake, gasping in amazement at the presence they all felt. Some cowered in fear, and others quivered in anticipation. From various parts of this, and other worlds, the gods were shaken from their playful celebrations and mindless pursuits by the raw power that flickered through their vast conciousness. As one, they all stepped from their own inner worlds to a meeting place in the greater world, each fearing the worst. Only one god felt the power and was not appalled. This god, often considered the most bland and restrictive by his relatives did something that the others had never seen. He smiled like a child and let out an echoing belly laugh that caused minor quakes through the mountainous region of their meeting place.

Aphreal, somewhat considered as among the flightiest of the gods, stared in shock as the staid and proper god of the Elene church started rolling on the ground in laughter. "Brother? What's going on? I- We've never seen you like this." she asked, concerned for the eldest of the younger gods. It was wildly rumored that the Elene god had even been around before the Older gods and even before the Troll gods.

The man seemed to gather himself, and he stood, the air seemingly to solidify with dignity, as though he'd never behaved so unusually. He smiled down at the beautiful goddess, who was in her true form. He felt almost guilty about withholding the information he possessed, but it was not his place to tell. "Don't worry, little sister. Every thing is all right now. But I suspect, that that danger you felt, is much closer then you ever expected." His face was still filled with joy, something that seemed out of place on the normally stern visage.

"If that's so, brother, then why are you so . . . happy?" Aphreal asked in confusion.

Eriond's smile grew widder. "Because the source of the Light you felt is also closer then you think, my child." Eriond leaned over and kissed the Child Goddess' golden tresses before calmly going over to a nervous looking group of his siblings.

Aphreal frowned, the expression appearing almost angelic on her mature face. "I hate it when he's cryptic like that." she muttered to herself.


	2. Chap 2

Here's another story idea I couldn't get out of my head.

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from belgariad more then 30x each, and the mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

There are a lot of similarities between the two series, and it always struck me in the back of my mind that Eddings did it on purpose to possibly write a future novel connecting the two series.

Since in the Elenium/Tamuli world I was unable to find the proper name for the God who watches over the Alcione knights, I've decided to name him myself. If any one knows the correct name, feel free to correct me, and I will fix it in the story. Also, I would need other names and personalities for the Styric Gods. There are 1000 of them, but only 6 or 7 are ever really named or described. So Naslin is who I've made for the Alcione knights.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster using a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for them. Which words they use and which gestures are important as they have to be framed in a ceertain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the believe that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will(power) and so the Word(anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

Here is Chapter 2 of this story.

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Garion stared at the knights after asking his question, only a small portion of his mind keeping track of the two men he held at sword point. The knights were giving off a rather pecular sound, similar to those who could use The Will, but slightly different. They had a secondary presence around themselves, and different from each other. The large, bearded man reminded him sharply of Barak. The other knight also reminded him of someone, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't really anyone in particular, but he was a lot like a mix of the Algars and the Perivor knights.

A few moments passed in silence while the four men stared at him, and he eventually tired of the quiet. "Well, someone want to answer my question?" he asked again, allowing a little rumbling of power to fill his voice.

The knights continued to look at him, though they exchanged a long glance. The two finally bowed to him, and the blonde spoke.

"Greetings, My Lord. I am Sir Tynian of Deira. This is Sir Ulath of Thalosia. We are but humble knights and old friends who came together in this forest for the sport of the hunt. These men attacked us for seemingly no reason of which we are aware."

Garion blinked and looked at the almost prostate knights. "Why are you doing that?" he asked, confused by their near religous fervor.

Ulath and Tynian exchange another glance, one Garion took to question his own intelligence. "Though we have not met them all, my Lord, we are well aware that only the Gods of Styricum are the only ones who possess the pwoer to alter their forms in the manner you have. Though we have not met all of your bretheren, we are acquainted to several of your family, most notably Aphreal, Hanka, Nalsin, Septras and Romalic. Er, if it's not too presumptuous, may we ask your name, oh Lord?"

Garion chuckled a bit, but his attention was called back to the two men. At the knight's word, the wounded man had started and drawn a dagger. He'd surged to his feet and rushed to attack Garion from behind. Without even sparing the man a glance, Garion slahed twice with his sword.

His first stroke sliced through the man's wrist, leaving a stump. The second was mid chest high and near deep enough to cut the man in two. His sharp blade sliced through bone as easily as flesh, and he moved so quickly and cleanly that the man continued his charge for another two paces before a puzzled expression came to his face. He glanced at his hand and his mouth formed an 'O' of surprise to see his hand-still holding the dagger- fall to the dirt. Then the top portion of his body, from sternum up, flopped back, blood splurting int other air. For a moment, his corpse remained standing, a rather macabre sight to all. His upper torso was hanging by the skin down towards the ground, and the man's head was pressed into his posterior. A slight breeze passed through the clearing, and the body collapsed in on itself.

Garion ignored the shocked look of the knights and turned to the second man, who was staring at him in fear. "Now, Answer my question. Who are you, and why did you attack these knights?"

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Tynian fought to retain his last meal at the casual way the God had killed the man. He'd never seen a god using a blade, except Cyrgon, and he'd never seen a blow like the one this God had delivered. Not with a simple saber, anyway. Usually, a blow that could slice a man in two so easily would require the heft and strength of a two-handed blade or an axe. The God's movements had been so swift all he had seen was a blur.

Now, the God's terrible grey eyes had swung to the other man, the one who'd lead the attack on them. Tynian cautiously moved forth, followed silently by Ulath. It was only a dozen steps to close the gap, and then they were within blade's reach of the God. He acknowledged their approach with a sideways nod of his head but remained focus on the prostrate form.

"Answer him, fool." Ulath stated from Tynian's side. His smacked his axe against his palm, then tested the edge with a thumb.

The man swallowed rapidly and rose to his knees. Some of his bravado returned to him. "I am a humble noble acting on the actions of my Lord. I obey his will in all things, and it is his will that the blaphemous soldiers of the corrupt Church be tracked down and killed. He has given orders to his loyal followers to kill all those who follow the false church and the hethen gods of Styricum. He wishes to bring the old Gods, the true Gods, back to their proper place as rulers of this world. He will kill the pagan Gods of Styricum and take his proper place among the Elder Gods. The 7 shall rise again, and the world will be reformed to it's former perfection."

Garion frowned down at the man. He didn't know anything about a Church, or these Styricums, but he did happen to know 7 gods. As far as he knew, they were the only 7 gods. At least, the only ones still alive, he thought. A shudder ran through him as both the scarred and unscarred face of Torak flashed into his mind. "What is Styricum and which Church are you speaking of? The only corrupt Church I know of is the Cult of Belar, and they died out millenia ago in the Cataclysm that reshaped the world."

Ulath and Tynian exchanged another glance as the God spoke, confused by his mention of a Cult and of a Cataclysm reshaping the world. The only time the world had been reshaped as far as they knew was when Aphreal and Sparhawk, with Bheliom's help, raised a cliff to halt the trolls. They did notice the reaction the other man had the mention of this Belar character, as his eyes widdened and he rose to full height on his knees.

"Belar? You know of the great Belar? You ...you are not one of these heathens?" the man asked.

Garion snorted. "Great Belar? Of course I know of Belar, I've met him several times."

Tears sprang from the man's eyes. "I thought never to meet another who had met the True Gods. The Lord claims that no living being except he has met them." The man frowned, studying the person standing before him. "How do I know that this is not a trick? Tell me of the 7."

Garion stared back as the man seemed to regain his backbone. "There aren't really 7. The first was UL, father of the Gods. His sons were Aldur, Mara, Belar, Chaldan, Nedra, Torak, and Issa. Belar was the youngest of the gods and was known as the Bear God. Issa was the Snake God, Nedra the god of money, Chaldan of knightly honor, Mara the Weeping god for his people were slaughtered, and Aldur was the Lone God. Torak was at one time the most handsome of Gods, but do to certain of his actions, he become known as the Maimed God. I have met them all, and learned at the side of Aldur. I have fought Torak, and slayed him. Does that prove to you, that I have met the True Gods of which you speak? After Torak's death, the god Eriond became the God of Angarak, and the other Gods left this world, leaving him alone to watch over all mankind."

Ulath and Tynian exchanged yet more glances as the young man spoke. They wondered at who these gods he was describing were, and if they had indeed once ruled over the world. And if this man had indeed killed one of them. As far as they were aware, Gods couldn't really die. They could fade away when they lost worshippers, as the gods they had met drew power from their followers, but they could not die. Even Azash had not been killed, though it was easier to think of it as that way. Sparhawk and Bheliom had really UNMADE him, not killed him.

"Ah, does that mean you aren't a god?" Tynian asked.

Garion looked back at the knights. "I am no god, simply a man. I have born many titles over my lifetime. To some I was Belgarion, King of Riva, Overlord of the West, Bearer of the Orb of Aldur, Sorcerer, Godslayer, and Child of Light. To a few, I was simply Garion, a farm boy raised by his Aunt Pol." He turned back to the man, who was whimpering in fear. "You have heard those names, haven't you?" he asked.

The man was staring at Garion, his eyes as wide open as they could go. He was crossing himself in a pecular manner, some kind of warding gesture against evil, Garion assumed. "The Lord claimed you would be dead! That not even you will live this long. That you would have perished with your kingdom. How can you be alive?"

Garion laughed. He sheethed his sword and stalked away from the man. "My Will has kept me alive for all this time. It has grown too strong to allow me to die. But that doesn't matter now. Now, I must seek out this 'Lord' of yours and find out how he knows of the Gods. He could not have been alive then. All but me have died. Grandfather, Aunt Pol, Durknik. Ce'Nedra...my beautiful Ce'Nedra. I have been alone in the world for more millenia then I care to count. This Lord might know where I can find the Orb. It was travelling the world, though I don't understand how." He turned back to the knights, studying them thoughtfully. "The two of you stink of it's power. You've been in contact with the Orb, though not recently."

Mika seemed to regather his courage, as he leapt to his feet and drew his sword. He attacked Garion with swift, short strokes of his blade. Though he had a height and reach advantage over the grey-eyed man, Mika was not as fast as Garion, and the Godslayer easily parried and blocked each attack. Though the sword he used was not his hereditary blade that he'd borne for centuries, he had spent a lot of time after giving up his blade to his heir learning to use the more common blades of several styles. He had had centuries of experience fighting with this sword before he'd taken to staying in animal form, and though he had not been in a sword fight in longer then his opponent could easily grasp, he had lost none of his skill. It was in his blood, as much as the ease and power of the Will, and the mark on his palm.

Garion toyed with the man, taking his time and working out long unused muscles. He had spend no more then minutes in his human form in almost 20000 years. He found that he had missed the rush of danger that came when in a battle for your life, though he had no doubt about the outcome of this dual. The man he fought showed some skill and talent, but he was not a warrior. He was a dillitant, someone who had studied the way of the sword as an indolent gesture of his wealth and prestige. He had obviously never been in a fight for his life against a more skilled opponent or against immense odds. By the time he was a mere 20, Garion had already fought in more pitches battles and duals then this person had likely even read about. The first 400 years of Garion's life had been lived from one battle or quest to another. He'd barely had time to realise the passage of time. Only the deaths of his children of old age, and the eventual demise of his beloved Ce'Nedra had marked the years.

And since Ce'Nedra's death, time had held no meaning for him as he sought first to end his life and join her, and then to live his life in isolation, devoid of the pain of human interaction. He'd watched from afar as nations rose and fell, seen the world change due to some strange event. He'd watched seas drain, and mountain ranges rise. He'd seen the crumbling of mountains into plains, and plains turn into vast forests. He'd been shot with arrows, stabbed with all manner of swords and daggers, sliced open by axes and nearly burned alive. And he had lived on, even as his family removed themselves from the world. By his 20th century, only he and Belgarath remained. The world had finally achieved the peace prophecied as Erriond's dominion, and no longer needed the guidance of the Eternal man and the students of Aldur. Polgara, Beldin, BelTira, BelKira, Beldurnik, Poldedra. Names lost to history first as myths, then simply vanished through the passage of eons.

He would have joined them, but his grandfather had taken him aside and told him of one last task he had to perform. He alone, of them all, was to remain and watch over the world and aid Erriond if the time ever came. He'd pleaded with his grandfather, begging to be allowed to join Ce'Nedra and their children in death, but the Eternal Man had been firm and resolute.

"You can not, Belgarion of Riva. It is not yet your time. It is to you, that this last task remains. You are the only one who can do it. Though I have lived nearly 10000 years, you Belgarion are the only one strong enough to perform this duty. I have outlived my purpose, my brother. It is time for you to put aside your childhood, and take up the mantle as the protector and Guardian you were always meant to be."

"But Grandfather, I've done what I supposed to do! I've killed Torak! I've CHOSEN! I've outlived my children and my wife! How can I be the one to perform this? Haven't I done enough? Why can't I go to my rest?"

Belgarath stared at the younger man, his face set in stone. "Because you are the only one with the power to do what needs be done. The only one with the Will to survive the coming times. You are destined, Belgarion, to a life of long isolation before your re-emergence into the world of man. But at the end, only you can do what will need to be done. I don't know what it is, or what you will face in the years to come, but I do know that NONE of us could even survive, let alone the task itself. Haven't you realised yet boy, that you are the strongest of us? That if needed, you could defeat ALL of us in a battle? That all of us, all the children of Aldur and all the Grolims in the world, could not stand up to the might of your Will?

Even without the power of the orb, you were and are a match for the power of Torak. You didn't NEED the Orb's help to defeat him, if you had only believed in your own talent. It's time to grow up. I know it hurts, Garion. You miss your wife. Well, so do I. And I have lost her TWICE, boy. I've only stayed this long because we all discussed it and felt you needed a bit more guidance. But it's time, boy. Today is a special day. It's the day I was born. And it's the day I die. I've come to the end of my beginning, and it's time for me to pass the world into your hands. I've taught you all I can, and now it's up to you.

Garion shook his head as his distraction in old thoughts allowed his opponent to land a normally fatal blow. He gasped and stepped back, allowing his hand to clutch at the deep cut across his abdomen. The man looked pleased and danced back, laughing at his apparent victory.

Garion slowly allowed a wolfish grin to form on his face. He withdrew his hand, but only after wiping the blood clear of the wound. The gash was wide and deep, and allowed everyone to see his organs. Garion reared back and started laughing, even as his Will forced the wound to heal. The attacker and the knights were amazed as they watched the flesh reform and the skin seal itself. He stopped laughed and sheathed the sword, pointing his hand at the man. While he had moved beyond his Aunt's need to gesture, he still occassionally did so for dramatic effect.

"You can not kill me. I am Immortal! I have walked the world for more millenia then your puny mind can comprehend. I have killed a God and annointed his replacement, brought the dead to life, and fixed a hole in the universe. Nothing you can do can kill me." Garion paused, as a wave of sorrow at his own words filled him. "Nothing anyone can do." he repeated to himself quietly.

He shook his head, and sneered at the man. He gathered his Will, noticing the quivering of the knights as he did so. He whispered under his voice, and the man rose into the air. Garion's fingers were outstreched and palm down. He turned his palm over, and the man rotated in the air. He slowly pulled his fingers into a clenched fist, and the man started screaming as he felt his ribs being crushed. Garion kept the pressure on, slowly crushing the man to death with a blank expression on his face.

His expression didn't alter as the bones of the man started ripping through his skin. Blood burst out of the man's body, first from his mouth and nose, then his eyes and ears. Soon it was pouring out of his body from the tears of his flesh. With one last effort, Garion closed his fist and the man's body was crushed flat in midair. His skull shattered inward, forcing the soft tissue to squeeze out. All of his organs and fluids were sent flooding out of his body, leaving his bones and the skin hovering in the air.

Garion waved his hand, and what was left was sent out into the forest, away from the clearing. He watched for a moment, then turned to face the knights.

He frowned at the pale looks on their faces. "You two okay? Maybe that was a little much."

Tynian and Ulath replied by rushing to the nearby shrubery and loosing their meals.

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The assembled gods of Styricum and their council of the Thousand shuddered in fear at the waves of power flowing through the world. Something vast and terrible had just happened, and it was powerful enough to breach the barrier around their meeting place. They could not tell where the pwoer was coming from or it's nature, but it was more powerful than any they had felt since Bheliom and Klael had fought.

A wizened old man stood and address the Gods and Priests. "The power grows ever more intense, my friends. What is it that can be done? Is it a force for good or evil that approaches?"

Aphrael stood and leaned forward, addressing her siblings and family. "There are two forces that approach, Gentle Ganya. One force of evil, hidden and twisted, and a force of good. The evil is hidding, bidding it's time and gathering it's strength. The power we just felt must have been from the other who approaches. Our brother of the Elene Church names the approaching force of good as the Child of Light. When he told me those words, I though immediately of Edaemus. He told me it had a different meaning and did not refer to the Shining Ones. He told me that an old friend of his was returning. We all know that he is the eldest among us. That he is not trully one of the Thousand, but was here even before the Elder Gods. I believe he is one of the Seven, a child of the AllFather."

A muttering broke out among the gathered throng. Little was known about the AllFather and his Children, except that they had been the First gods to exist. The AllFather was the creator of the universe, and the universe was the Mother of the First Gods, known as the Seven. Time and Gods travelled in cycles and Ages. It was believed by the Styric Gods that they were the 3rd incarnation of Godhood. The AllFather and his Children were the first, then The Troll Gods and their Bretheren the Elder Gods. When the Thousand had willed themselves into existence, the Elene God had already been there. He had aided their transition into existence and taught them of the world they now inhabited. At first, they had thought of him as an Elder God, and treated him as such. When the Elders had tried to erase their existence, he had fought at their side and gained entry into the Thousand. There were few among the Thousand who even knew his True name, calling him instead by the name he'd chosen for himself at their emergence, ERND.

"How can this be, Aphrael? If he is trully one of the Seven, how can none of us have seen it before?" asked one of her cousins, a serious older women who was dressed rather conservatively by Aphrael's standards.

"If he is one of the Seven, he would have the ability to block our knowledge of his origins and true self. He would be able to appear as nothing more then another of us. He could easily hide his nature from all, even the Elder Gods, who were more powerful individually then ourselves. It is no secret that while we are Gods, we are not as powerful on an individual basis as the Elders, and the Elders paled in comparison to the Seven. We were only able to survive because we are the Thousand, and the Elders were only 12. We all know that as the cycles of Time go on, even we will one day move on and others will take our place. They will be weaker then us, but still above our charges of mankind. And then they will be replaced and so on. But as the Gods grow weaker, mankind grows stronger. Eventually, the last of the Gods will be on equal level of power as mankind and then the cycles will begin anew.

We all know this, as we know our destinies. But have any of you tried seeing the future? Looking into the mists of the coming years? Something has clouded it from our vision. No longer is the future assured. There are now only possibilities. Even the fates of mankind have been rewritten and the new fates blocked from out sight. Something stirs, and it is powerful enough to alter destiny. We must seek out this Child of Light, and ask for his aid. We must learn of his intentions and the source of his opposite." Ganya spoke, replying for the child goddess. "I would ask that we all have our children searching, but especially that Aphrael approach Anhaka and his allies. I have no doubt that in the coming storm, we will require his assitance."

Aphrael nodded, and she and Sephrenia, who had remained silent during the discussion, left the gathering.

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Sephrenia woke and quickly rose from the bed she shared with her husband. She began to prepare for a long journey, doing so as quietly as she could. She did not wish to wake Vanion or their child with her preparations. Time enough for them to sleep a little more before they learned they had to once again return to Cimmuria and the coming struggle.

Though she did not touch the hidden closet which contained Vanion's tools of war, she did prepare his other belongings. She then sighed as she realized they did not have the materials needed to prepare fheir daughter for a long journey. The thought was barely in her mind when a gentle sound from the front door attracted her attention. As silent as a shadow, she moved to the door, pulling it open on it's well oiled hinges.

"Greetings Ganya. I would have thought you would remain at the gathering until all had left." she mentioned to the elderly gentleman to enter their dwelling.

Ganya smiled gently at the small woman. He, unlike most Styrics, had allowed a long beard to grow on his face, and it was white with his age. "Dear Sephrenia, that would normally be true, but times call for us to work quickly. You above all know how quickly time passes in the other world. We came up with several ideas, but nothing conclusive until you can speak to Anhaka. So, I have come back early in order to help you prepare for your journey. My children are gathering supplies and equipment you might need for the trip to Cimmuria. The women are gathering what you will need for you daughter during your travels."

"Thank you, Ganya. That is most appreciated. Vanion and I thought that we would not have to travel such distances for many years to come. We were not prepared to travel as we used to." Sephrenia busied herself with preparing some tea, knowing that Vanion would need some when he awoke, and feeling the need for some herself. She and the elder sat in comfortable silence while the water rose to a boil.

Once the water was ready, she poured it into two teacups and dropped in a pinch of tea leaves. She stirred the cups and passed one to Ganya. They drank in silence, all the while their minds puzzled over the coming trials.

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Sparhawk groaned as someone prodded him in the side. He tried to turn away from the prodding digit, but a weight on his side opposite the prodding kept him from moving. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. His face settled into a scowl as he noticed his daughter next to the bed, a look of amusement on her face. "What do you want, Danae? It's late, and I have a long day of paperwork and training tomorrow."

The Elenian princess scowled at her father. "Wake up, Sparhawk. Somethings happening you need to know about."

Sighing as he realized that he was talking to the other side of his daughter, he carefully extracted himself from his young wife's grip and swung out of bed. There was a slight chill in the air, and he wondered why he hadn't lit the fire before heading to bed. His lips twitched as he recalled that his wife had been in an amorous mood and that was why they had been so entwinned under the covers and the fire had remained unlit.

"What's going on Aphrael?" knowing that the goddess would have been certain to assure that their conversation would not be heard, even by Ehlana.

"Something big is coming, Sparhawk. A new force of Darkness is walking the land, and so is a new source of Light. Both are really powerful, Sparhawk. The Dark Force has hidden itself so well that not even the combined powers of the Thousand can find it. And not too long ago, the Light did something. We don't know what, but we know that it was powerful enough to break the barriers the Thousand had set on their meeting place. I'm surprised that you didn't feel it, Sparhawk."

At her words, he gave a quick glance to his still sleeping wife and the smug expression she wore even in her sleep. He then turned to his sometime daughter and raised an eybrow.

It took the goddess a moment, then she blushed brightly red as she realised what he was implying. "Oh. You and Mother were... Okay then. I guess that would distract you, wouldn't it? I almost can't wait until Talen and I are married if it's that . . . compelling."

Sparhawk frowned at the reminder of his daughter's plans. While he liked the former thief, and found him an excellent trainee with a good head on his shoulders, he didn't think he was good enough for his daughter. Of course, in his mind, no one was good enough for Danae. She was only 14, and it was too early for her to be thinking about boys. She'd need to be at least twice her age before considering marriage.

Aphrael sighed. "Oh, father. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Mother decided she was going to marry you when she was five, and she did before she was twenty. Heck, if she wasn't the queen, most people would think she got married late."

Sparhawk felt the beginning of a familiar headache. "We can talk about this later, for now, what's going on?"

Aphrael sighed. "We don't really know. All we do know is that whatever is coming, is strong enough to alter the destiny of the world. The future has shifted course. What will be is no longer certain. The fate of all, both God and Man has changed, and we don't know what is happening. Everything is in flux. There's countless possibilities about what might happen, and we can't see more then a handfull of them. Whatever is coming is going to rock the world, Sparhawk. Worse then the battle between Klael and Bheliom. Worse then our battles with the Elder Gods. We have reason to believe that it involves the children of the AllFather in some way."

Sparhawk frowned, not knowing what the goddess was talking about. "Who or what is this AllFather? I've never heard of him before."

"There was no reason for you to know. It happened during The first cycle, and we are in the third. The AllFather is just that. The Father of All. He was the first god. The won who created the Universe even as the Universe created him. He had seven children. Sons who became the original Gods of Man. Torak, Chaldan, Nedra, Issa, Belar, Mara and Aldur. Each chose a people to rule over, except for Aldur who dwelt alone in the Vale, a sacred place. Eventually, several very special people made their way to the Vale, and Aldur taught them the secret of Sorcery. Of the Will and the Word. Eventually, some things happened, and they left, but did not leave fully until Torak had been killed and a new god raised in his place. This god was left to watch over the future on Man.

No one really knows what happened, though some of us believe we know. Your God, the god of the Elene Church, is not one of the Thousand, though he did aid us in the battle against the Elder Gods and was largely responsible for sealing Azash and the Troll Gods. He was the only one aside from yourself that Azash ever feared or respected. We always though he was older then he claimed, but recently, he's been acting odd, even for him."

'That headache's getting worse. God acting odd?' the embattled knight sighed as he realised things were indeed getting bad if Aphrael thought someone was acting odd. "How do you mean?" he asked, fearing the answer.

"I know you had the same dream we had, even if it didn't wake you. So you felt some-thing stirring, but not as much as we did. Well, after the dream woke me, I went to visit Him at the Chapterhouse. HE was smilling and laughing, Sparhawk. Laughing so hard, he was rolling around on the ground. I'm here with you now, but I'm also with him there. I split into Flute and Danae to get you up and bring you to the chapterhouse to meet with him. HE knows more then HE's willing to tell me alone. After I bring you there, I'm going to go back to the meeting of the Thousand to discuss the forces we've felt. I have no doubt that they are going to have me come back to you and have you and reform our little group. So once that meeting is done, I'm going to have to go influence our friends into coming here or talk the others into getting them here."

While his daughter explained, Sparhawk was dressing. He paused with his chain mail over his head when she mentioned that his God wished to speak to him. He'd never been in the actual physical presence of his God before though he liked to believe his prayers had been heard. Despite his own intimate relationship with several Gods, Sparhawk was not a spiritual or religious man but he did have his beliefs. The chance to actually speak, face to face, with the God of his Church was very inspiring. And intimidating.

"I'm going to meet God?" he asked, just to clarify the situation.

Aphrael rolled her eyes. "Sparhawk, you've met several Gods already. You are even the father of a Goddess, remember? What's so special about your meeting this god?"

Sparhawk sighed. "You wouldn't understand, Aphrael. It's an Elene thing. Yes, I know you are a god, but this is different since this is MY god. The relationship between an Elene and his god is very different from that of a Styric and their gods. It's a less personal relationship, but more . . . involved way of worship. It's more about getting us together in peace then about seeing and speaking to god. Most Elene's wouldn't be able to handle taling to god in the way Styrics relate to the Thousand. I know I've met, and even fought gods, Aphrael. And I never forgot who you are, daughter. But it's just not the same."

Aphrael sighed. "I guess I will never understand. I just don't see why HE has to be so stuffy all the time. And those depictions artists give of him? Totally wrong. The person they are talking about looks nothing like what he really looks like. He takes on that appearance to apease your Elene sensibilities of what a God should look like, but really, he's nothing like that. I won't spoil the surprise, but I felt you should know."

Sparhawk grunted as he finished strapping on his sword. He didn't really think he'd need it for simply going to the chapterhouse chapel, but experience had taught him to never take anything for granted.

"Well, then. Let's go speak with God, daughter. Maybe he'll know of a way I can get you to behave." The two silently made their way out, passing the guards posted at the doors. The guards didn't react as they passed, staring straight ahead.

Danae batted her eyes at her father, looking remarkably like her mother. "But father, you love me the way I am."


	3. Chap 3

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from belgariad more then 30x each, and the mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster using a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for them. Which words they use and which gestures are important as they have to be framed in a ceertain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the believe that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will(power) and so the Word(anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

To answer a few reviews:

First Thank YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING AND READING. I can not express my thanks enough to any one who has read or reviewed my works, especially this one.

2nd: This is a combination of the two worlds with Bel/Mallorean having taken place roughly 50thousand years before the Elen/Tamuli. So the geography has changed due to natural and unnatural forces(to be explained later, hint hint) and no one really knows about the civilizations that existed so long ago. In 50 000 years, a lot of history was lost or confused. So anything that seems odd about what the people of the Elen/Tamuli say about the Bel/Mal people is due to the perversion of time. Only Eriond was around back then, the Styric gods having come into being about 20 000 years before this story, and the elder gods some 20 thousand before that. Eriond(and Garion) have been around for about 50 000 years. Hell, Garion's just stating what he thought of the gods. Nedra and his people were obsessed with wealth and status, Chaldran and his people were consummed by their senses of honor and chivalry(that's why they were so dumb, too much honor not enough brainpower). And his memories of that time are kind of scrambled after spending nearly 45000 years as various animals.

As I stated, in the story, the Styrics believe the world goes in cycles. Those cycles are about 20-25 thousand years. So Ul and his children had been around for about 15 thousand years when Garion was born. Then 10 000 years later, they were all gone but Eriond and new gods came into being. These were the Elder Gods of Styricum. 20 000 years later, the Younger Gods(the Thousand) came into being. Now, 20 000 years later, the end of the Styric gods is approaching and there's a chance for new gods to take their place.

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Sparhawk was feeling nervous for the first time since he'd faced his first pitched battle. He was following Aphrael through the streets towards the chapterhouse, the little goddess flitting through and around the still forms of the few people wandering the streets at this late hour. She had moved them into that gap between times that she usually used when they had to travel long distances, and Sparhawk was glad for it. It was raining out, which wasn't unusual for the time of year, but he'd been woken in the middle of the night and told he had to go visit his God, and he would hate to have to do so while getting soaked.

He sighed as they reached the carved doors of the massive structure. There was supposed to be a guard at the doors overnight, and Sparhawk noted with irritation that the guard was not standing before the doors. He made a note to have a word with whoever had been scheduled for duty that evening as the little Goddess pushed against the doors that, by all rights, should have been immovable for such a small person.

The doors swung open silently, revealing the missing guards standing just out of their arch range. The two men were as frozen as everyone else they had passed taht evening, and Sparhawk felt his irritation swell for a moment before sighing. It wasn't worth it, he thought. They are guarding the doors, they're just doing so from INSIDE instead of getting soaked and ruining their mail outside. He decided to see if it would be possible to make an overhang just outside that would allow the guards to remain dry during the rain, yet keep them ouside where they were supposed to be.

Aphrael paused from halfway down the aisle of pews. She turned back to face Sparhawk, who was still glaring at the men. "Are you coming, father? We have to go to the chapel upstairs, you know."

"Just a moment, Danae." Sparhawk stated distractedly. He moved to the guards and studied their faces, matching them to their names. He would mention them to Kalten tomorrow, and have them assigned a patrol of the outer walls of the city. He then pushed the doors closed. "Okay, let's go then."

They made their way up stairs to the small chapel on the upper level next to the Preceptor's quarters. They were empty, as Sparhawk had much more comfortable quarters with his wife. They entered the small chapel and took seats in the front pew. There were only three rows, and a chair behind the podium facing into the room. They had just sat, when a soft chiming filled the room and a light started forming in front of the chair. The light expanded in a flash, causing Sparhawk to blink, though Aphrael only rolled her eyes at her compatriot's antics.

When Sparhawk was able to see, he gaped silently at the figure seated in the large chair. Though the figure was not what he'd been expecting, he knew without a doubt that this was his God. The God he had believed in and been taught to worship. The God that for the longest time, he had believed to be the only God. The God he was told had created the world and brought life into existence. Priests and artists portrayed God as a wise, gentle man, with a flowing white beard and hair, dressed in whtie robes of impossible cleanliness and softness. Often, he was depicted with a large staff, upon which a glowing orb was often depicted. Theologians claimed the glowing orb was the world from God's perspective.

The reality was different. Seated in the chair was a man seemingly about half Sparhawk's age. He was wearing what looked to be peasant outfit of blouse, leather pants and vest, and at his hip was a slim sword of a style Sparhawk didn't recognize. The man was seated casually, but upright, and had a gentle smile on his face. Really, the only things that matched any of the descriptions Sparhawk had ever heard were that smile and the calm, gentle blue eyes reflecting back an inner light and power that Sparhawk could feel down to the depths of his soul.

He slipped from the pew and fell to one knee, bowing as deeply as his aching body would allow him. "My Lord." he whispered in awe, knowing on an instinctive level that this was his God.

The figure nodded his head and gestured towards Sparhawk. "Rise, Sir Sparhawk of Elenia. You need not bow to me."

Sparhawk gulped and rose to his feet, standing at military attention while looking towards the other man. "But you are God!" he protested.

Eriond smiled and stood. He walked towards the statue like form of the Pandion. "I am but one of many Gods, Sparhawk. Unfortunately, the truth of my origins and the origins of the church have been lost to the ages. I am not the Creator, Sparhawk. Merely his last son. The church has confused my self and my brothers and joined us all as one, along with my father."

"Your father, my Lord? Brothers?" Sparhawk asked, genuinely confused. Nothing he'd ever taught or experienced had prepeared for him to meet God and have him explain that the church had mistaken his teachings.

"Yes, Sparhawk. The Seven. We were the children of UL, the All-Father. Creator of the universe and first being in existence. There has always been some debate as to whether UL created the universe or whether the Universe created UL. Either way, he created everything within the universe, including us, his children, and those we were given to watch over. The church you know, has confused myself and my brothers and lumped us all as one being. I haven't bothered correcting them, since it did no harm for them to teach such, so long as they had the proper message of tolerance and love for all mankind. I have been greatly disappointed in recent centuries with their direction, though I am immensely proud of the successes of the Order Knights. Especially the Pandions and your ancestors in particular."

Sparhawk was filled with pride. God had been watching over his family, just as the priests taught. "I am honored, my Lord, that you have expressed interest in my family and by your praise for my fellow knights. I would one day like to learn more about your Father and Brothers, but right now, if its not too presumptuous. Why am I here?"

Eriond grinned and slapped a hand to Sparhawk's shoulder, ignoring the strange look that filtered across Sparhawk's face. "I need your help, Sparhawk. Or more accurately, the world is going to need Anhaka's help."

Sparhawk groaned, and ignoring all propriety drilled into him by his family and instructors, collapsed back onto the pew, causing the ancient wood to shake with the weight of his form. He covered his hands with his face and started muttering under his breath.

Eriond and Aphrael exchanged confused glances, not understanding what the problem was. Eriond gestured for Aphrael to approach the man, since he was aware his presence overwhelmed Sparhawk, though he would wish it otherwise.

"Father, what's wrong?" the goddess asked, her small hands on Sparhawk's knees.

Sparhawk dropped his hands to cover Aphrael's own. He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and frustration. "Why me?" he asked desperately, "WHY ME?" He yelled out, standing and staring at his God. He was shocked into silence by his Lord's reaction.

Eriond tried hold it in, but he wasn't able to do so. Slowly, little snickers broke out, and eventually, he started laughing nearly hysterically, grasping his aching sides as the force of his laughter shook his body. For a being who didn't really need to breath or have a body, this was a trully phenominal feat. He tried to stop at the puzzled looks Sparhawk and Aphrael exchanged. Especially since he had been listening to Aphrael talking to Sparhawk to get him here.

Time passed and he eventually regained control of himself. By this time, the two were staring at him, and he could tell that Sparhawk had lost his awe and inherant respect for him. Not that he minded. Earned respect from a man such as Sparhawk would mean a lot more then the blind devotion and obedience of a thousand other men. "Sorry. Just remembering old times. Actually, I knew someone who used to ask that all the time, Sparhawk. A distant, very distant ancestor of yours. In fact, he's kind of the reason we need Anhaka."

"What do you man, my Lord?" Sparhawk asked, wondering what was going on. God was acting very different from everything he'd been taught or been told by Aphrael and other Styric gods.

Eriond waved his hand, brushing off the question for a moment. "Did you know, Sparhawk, that your line is the oldest continuous line of ancestry in the world? That it has never been broken and never been interrupted or sidetracked? That I could list your ancestors back for over 60 thousand years?" He sat next to Sparhawk on the pew, looking at the depiction of himself painted above the chair on the small dais. "Look at your right hand."

Sparhawk obeyed without thought, unclenching his fist to stare at his palm. Slowly, a pale circular makr was forming on the palm. It looked almost like a burn mark, something he'd had a few off in his long life. He had never noticed such a mark in all his remembered years, but there it was. As real as the scar that bisected it, and the callouses on his fingers that even years as little more then a token courtier or Preceptor hadn't softened. He hadn't had to lift a sword for more then pracitice or teaching in nearly a decade. He hadn't ridden a horse since Feran had died three years before, finaly succumbing to old age. Now, he rode in carriages next to his wife, and carried a sword for purely ceremonial purposes, though he considered himself as good as always. Maybe a half step slower, and not quite as powerful a strike, but he still had all the skill he'd acquired over the years. Was still a dangerous man. His eyes might not be as good, and he might not be able to see fine details more than an arms length away, but he was still a soldier. No matter what time and battles had ravaged on him, he was still capable and solid fighter.

Yet, he knew that even with all those battles, and all that experience, he had never seen that mark before. It was something new yet old. There was no tighness in the palm of a fresh wound, and in truth, aside from looking like a scar, it felt like a normal part of himself. Like he'd been born with it. However, he could swear that it had not been there even minutes before. "What is this?" he asked, looking at the person sitting next to him.

Eriond smiled wide. "It's a birthmark that has been in your family for over 50 thousand years. To first to bear it was named Riva Irongrip, and he was king of the island nation that bore his name, Riva. Riva was the son of the King of Aloria, Cherek Bear-Shoulders. They were even before my time. I wasn't born until a few thousand years after they had died."

Sparhawk set aside his surprise at learning that God had been born. "So you've known my family for a long time, then?"

Eriond grinned. He'd shown more expression in the last days then he had since Polgara and Durnik had chosen to give up life. "You could say that one of your ancestors and I were almost brothers. We were raised by the same woman after all. I've always had a soft spot for the family. Though I've only kept track of the main two branches. I could go over the others, but only those two are really important."

Sparhawk was wondering when the shocks would stop. "So what does the mark mean?"

"It means your family was marked as being special. Very special. Out of all the world, and all those who have ever lived, only your ancestors and only you were able to do what was needed. Only your line was able to control the force that you have called Bhelliom."

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Garion was seated on one side of the fire, with Tynian and Ulath on the other side. Garion had managed to search the bodies and found that several of them had the Bear Claw mark of the Bear Cult. Some of the others had other marks. What looked like a bull's horns, a lion's paw, a hooded snake, and boar's tusks. Whatever was going on seemed to involve the ancient gods who had long since left this world. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but long experience had taught him that sometimes hunches were just a way for your unconcious mind to give you information it had gathered that you waking mind had missed. And he had a strong hunch that whatever was going on involved a cult or series of cults who were worshipping the Seven. And since no one alive now should even KNOW anything about the Seven, then the only conclusion he could come too was that someone else from his time was alive. Someone who had dubious intentions for the rest of the world. And Garion could think of no one who fit the description.

He sighed as he used Ulath's whetstone to sharpen the edge of his sword. It had not been used in more then 15 thousand years until this evening, and even though it had been in the non space existence objects were stored when a sorceror changed his form, the sheer amount of time had dulled the blade and rusted a few spots. Even his conjured clothing was threadbare and torn in spots, though he set a simple use of his will to mending it to appropriate appearance. He was dressed in clothes similiar to those he'd worn during his formative years, before he'd learned of his true heritage. It made him look like a farm hand or conscripted soldier, but he had never felt comfortable in the finery he'd been forced to wear while ruling Riva. Though Ce'Nedra had certainly appreciated the way he'd looked in it.

Shaking his head, he turned to watch as the knights finished their search of the assorted corpses. They'd gathered quite a sum of money in a variety of currencies. The one that he'd insisted on handling himself, however, was the strange red gold. Tynian and Ulath hadn't known what it was, but they'd felt the draw towards it when they'd found it on one of the corpses. After that, he'd stepped in and gathered the rest of the insidious metal, once again finding a clue to people and places long forgotten. Stamped on the face of the coins was the unscarred face of someone he'd not thought of in longer then he cared to think. He wasn't sure exactly, when he'd stopped being haunted by dreams of the dragon god of Angarak, but he hadn't wanted to risk reawakening the nightmares.

"What is that stuff, Garion?" asked Tynian as he stared greedily at the pile of red coins. "And who's the person on them?"

Garion debated with himself what to tell the knights and decided on a short version of the truth. "This is red gold, and it isn't supposed to exist here at this time. It was supposed to have all been gathered and disposed of tens of thousands of years ago."

Ulath frowned. "Who's the king?"

Garion snorted. "He wasn't really a king, Ultath. He was a God. And he's someone who's been dead for about 50 thousand years."

"How do you know he isn't the one behind these people?" Tynian asked. Most of the brigands equipment would be useless, but there were a few pieces they could oil and resell at a later date.

"Remember earlier, when I told you I was called Godslayer?"

"Sure, we thought it was just a title, like duke or earl or something."

Garion laughed harshly, laying aside the whetstone and freshly sharpened blade. "I wish. He's the god I slayed to earn the name. I was about 15 at the time. He wasn't the first person I killed, but he was the most notable." Garion stared into the flame, pondering old thoughts and regrets. "I haven't thought about him in a very long time. And now, I find these." he waved at the pile of red gold. "And those marks on these men. Someone is trying to stir up old troubles, and that's very dangerous."

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"Bhelliom? What about it?" Sparhawk asked. "How could a mark on my palm let me control Bhelliom?"

"Because the mark marks you as being of the proper line. Bhelliom was not always a carved rose, Sparhawk. Long ago, many years before my awakening, it was a stone. A stone polished by the hand of the god Aldur. Stolen by his brother Torak, who used it to do something terrible."

"What did Torak do?" Aphrael asked. She and other Styric gods could travel back into the past, but to go so far was dangerous, even for them, and few had ever risked it. And none was able to recall much about a large block of time that was sealed to their travels.

"He raised up the Orb of Aldur, and Cracked the world." Eriond stated sadly, all hints of mirth and amusement gone from his voice. "He used it to cause a rift in the planet, tearing apart a continent down to the deepest level of the world. The Orb didn't like this, since the planet is in a way it's mother. So it burned Torak, melting away his hand and scarring the left side of his face. After that, only a few special people could hold the Orb and use it's powers. Before, anyone could have lifted up the Orb and used it. Afterwords, it trusted only Riva and his descendants to wield it."

"But how can this Orb be Bhelliom? Bhelliom came from space and was trapped when the planet was formed. Bhelliom itself told us when we were preparing to battle it's enemy, Klael."

Eriond sighed. People, even Gods, were too easily mislead or distracted. "I am aware of all this. However, the essence of Bhelliom, and the essence of Klael, are formless. Their forms are dictated by the needs of their endless battle. When the world was formed, the essence of Bhelliom was trapped into the form of the blue stone that Aldur lifted from the river bed. The trauma was severe, and Bhelliom's mind was scattered. The Orb had only the mental capacity of a child. It was playful and willful, and could only be controlled by the descendants of Riva. Only the one marked by the Orb itself could touch it. As with all things the world changed, and the lands shifted. The Isle of Riva was thrust up and became a mountain range. The Seven had left, leaving me to watch the progress of mankind. I was supposed to be the last, the only. But something happened, and destiny was altered. The cycle started up."

"The cycle?" Sparhawk asked, further confused.

It was Aphrael who answered. "Styric's know that the world goes in cycles. Everything goes in cycles. You are born, grow old, bring life to a child, and die. The same goes with the Gods. The Thousand are the 5th set. The first was the Seven. Then the Trolls Gods and Dawn men, then the Elder Gods, and now us. With each cycle, the powers of the Gods grows weaker, while the abilities of man grow stronger. We believe that the cycles will repeat until either there is only 1 god for all mankind, or mankind is as strong as the gods."

"And the cycle would end at that time." Eriond added. "And the end was supposed to be with me. It was I who was to be the last guardian of mankind. Yet something has happened that has started the cycle again. And the future is uncertain. That is why we must find a way to bring Bhelliom back and heal it's form back to the Orb. We will need it's power in the coming conflict. And your power as well, Anhaka."

"Me? I have no power. Bhelliom took it back when I freed it."

Eriond laughed. "Oh my son. Bhelliom could no more have taken your powers then you could destroy the world. It's a part of you, Sparhawk. A part of what makes your line so special. Throughout all the cycles of history, your family have put duty and honor above all else. And have been gifted with abilities beyond the normal gifts all humans and gods have. In fact, most of the feats that you acredit to Bhelliom, were done solely by yourself. By the strength of your will and desire to see it done. Bhelliom did give you some power, but it was a loan. Once you used the power, it was gone."

"So you're saying that I did it all? I banished Azash, not Bhelliom? That I did all those things my self? Just because I wanted it to happen?"

Eriond nodded. "Yes. In my original time, it was called the Will and Word. Those special people with certain traits could gather enough Will, with the release of the Word, they could accomplish magic beyond most Styric spells you could imagine. One person, an ancestor of yours, was so powerful, he could raise the dead."

"That's impossible!" stated Aphrael, looking at Eriond with disbelief on his face.

"Oh, is it? Well, you can ask him yourself. He should be here in a few days."

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Garion's eyes opened as the first rays of sunlight crossed his face. He sat up and looked around, noting Ulath standing watch near the edge of the clearing and Tynian still sleeping soundly across the firepit. The fire had been allowed to die, though they had made sure to stir the coals to keep them burning.

Garion stood and walked into the forest to perform his morning absolutions. He returned to the fire to find Ulath and Tynian slicing the rest of the meat from the boar. Ulath took the less edible remains and excess meats and tossed them in the forest, opposite the area they'd disposed of the attackers. The forest animals would eat well when they returned in a day or so.

"So what are we going to do now?" Garion asked the others. He wanted to leave and search for the Orb, but sensed that his best chance of finding it was to stay with these two.

The two exchanged a glance and Ulath gestured for Tynian to give his opinion while he gathered the supplies and stuffed them into the sacks.

"Well, if you're looking for this Orb, then the best chance to learn anything about it would be to find Sparhawk and then search for Sephrenia and Aphrael."

"And who are they?" Garion asked.

"Sparhawk is the Preceptor of the Pandion Knights and Prince Consort to Queen Ehlana. He's also the one all the really weird things like this usually happens to. If something is going on, then Sparhawk is somewhere in the center of it." Tynian explained. He was now loading the supplies onto the horses. "Sephrenia is a Styric, and the person who taught the Pandions how to use magic. She's recently retired back to her homeland with her husband and their child. She's the High Priestess for Aphrael, who is one of the Styric Thousand."

"What are these Styric Thousand? For that matter, what's a Styric?"

"You've never heard of Styrics? Or the Styric gods?" Ulath asked. He was finishing the strapping of the saddle on his mare, while Tynian checked the feet.

"Nope, neither. The only Gods I know left this planet about 50 000 years ago."

Tynian and Ulath shared a look, wondering about the mental state of their new companion. "The Styrics are a race who believe in harmony with all of nature and life. They are vegetarians and have close relationships with their gods. There are a Thousand Styric Gods. For obvious reasons I wont name them all. I can tell you that the 4 orders of the Knights have been granted the right to learn magic from the Styrics in order to be able to combat those threats that are outside of the normal beliefs of Elenes. The orders are Pandion's who are taught by Aphrael, or at least they used to be. Alciones, my order, are taught by Naslin. The Genidians are taught by Hanka, and the Cyrinnics by Romalic. There are others, but only the Styrics know them all."

"What about Elenes? Who do they worship?"

"We worship God." Ulath stated gruffly. "We do not say his name, for it would be disrespectful and arrogant to pressume to address the Lord by name. Most Elenes don't even know Gods name. Though the Order Knights are taught it as part of their theology course."

Garion frowned as both men swung up into the saddle. "Would his name be Eriond? Or something that sounds like that." he asked.

The two froze in place. Then slowly turned in their seats atop the horses to stare at Garion. It was Ulath who spoke next, and his words were like the rumble of an avalanche. "Where did you learn that name?"

"I was one of the ones who gave it to him." Garion stated calmly. "He was practically my brother."

AN:

So what do you think? this going good, or what?


	4. Chap 4

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from Belgariad more then 30x each, and the Mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster saying a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for his use. Which words they use and which gestures are important, as they have to be framed in a certain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the belief that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will (power) and so the Word (anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

To answer a few reviews:

First Thank YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING AND READING. I can not express my thanks enough to any one who has read or reviewed my works, especially this one.

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"So how long will it take to get to Cimera?" Garion asked as he walked along the trotting horses. Though he gave the appearance of an easy, slow walk, he was moving fast enough to keep up with the horses and could have run easily beside them at full gallop.

"It's Cimmura." Tynian corrected idly, while glancing around the countryside. "And right now, we are about 3-4 days hard ride away. We want to make a stop at a little border town to drop off some of the heavy equipment and change horses. These are just light cavalry breeds, and we might well need more proper mounts on the trip. Plus, we don't need to haul all this equipment to Cimmura. The Pandions will have anything we might need, and aside from our armor and personal affects, we don't need to bring along the rest of this. There's enough stops along the way that we can spend the nights in inns or hostels and buy what food we might need. So no cooking or hunting, and no need to pack rations."

Ulath nodded, adjusting a loose strap on his pack. "There's a chapterhouse at the border town we are stopping at. We'll drop our stuff off, and they will send in with the next dispatch to Cimmura or to our homes. Probably send them home, since aside from the armor, we can get more cookware and such in Cimmura. Likely better quality too, since Sparhawk is the Prince Consort as well as the Preceptor."

"Huh. Married to that Queen Ehlana you told me about right? And they have a daughter, Danae." Garion had to sidestep a hole in the ground that the horses just went over. He debated shifting to his wolf form, but decided to wait until it was absolutely necessary.

"That's right. Danae would be about 14 now, right Ulath?" Tynian asked, pulling a piece of jerky from a small pouch. He passed the pouch to Ulath who also took a piece and then offered the pouch to Garion who declined.

"About that. And starting to scare Sparhawk with all the talk about marriage. I don't know who's more scared. Sparhawk, or Talen." the giant chuckled, once again reminding Garion of his long dead friend Barak.

"Talen? He's the thief who's in training as a Pandion?" Garion inquired, trying to get as much information and details about any potential allies in his quest.

"Yes, though for a while there, there was some question as to what Talen was going to do. He is remarkably talented, and no few people would have loved to have him as an apprentice. He had offers from the priesthood, merchants, artists, and even the leaders of various underworld governments. Thief guilds and the like."

"But his father and Sparhawk wanted him as a knight, and Talen decided he had to honor his father's wishes or face his mothers wrath."

"Kurik was a good man, but he had a weakness for a strong, full bodied woman. He had several children with his wife and Talen with his mistress. He was just lucky that both the women were tolerant and liked each other. After he died, Asline invited Talen's mother to come live on their farm, and so now the kids have two mother's to deal with. Though now, most have grown and moved to their own paths, a few still stay near the farm and help their mothers out."

Garion nodded, but was completely lost. He decided that the topic had been gone over enough. "Tell me more about the magic of the Styrics. I don't really understand what you mean when you say the spells are prayers."

Ulath finished the jerky in his mouth and took a swig from a canteen of water. "Well, it's relatively simple, even while being complex. Styric magic comes from the Gods, and the gods grant it only to those who can request for it in the proper manner. This includes forming the proper gestures as well as saying the correct words in the right sequence and tone. So for a simple spell, like this: " Ulath made a soft gesture with his hand and calmly said something in a language Garion didn't understand. The result was a small sphere of light floating several inches above his palm. The light looked pale in the daylight, but gave enough to cast away the few shadows it crossed as Ulath moved it around.

Garion studied the sphere. He had heard nothing during the casting of the spell, and felt very little coming from the sphere. "And what does that mean?"

"What it was, was a prayer to the God Hanka, who looks over the Genidians, to grant me light against the shadows surrounding me. At night, or in a cave, it would make it nearly as bright as day but out here, with the sun up and shinning, it isn't as impressive. But, each move of the gesture, " Ulath repeated the gesture. It started with a closed fist held near the chest; palm down and knuckles pointed to the side. You then circled in towards yourself and upwards, turning the fist and opening the fingers until you were palm up and fingers out away from you. "The gesture is a means of gathering the power Hanka would grant if he decides to listen to your request and gives a platform of control for the light. The words, loosely translated mean: Lord Hanka, grant me light against these shadowy forms." He closed his fist and the light vanished. "That's pretty much how it works. Every spell has a different gesture to go with the words, and changing either the phrasing or gesture even a little can cancel the spell, increase it's strength, or do something totally unexpected."

Tynian took up when Ulath paused. "Each of the orders has it's own ...teacher and prayer guide. Genidians gain their spells from Hanka, Cyrinnics from Romalic, Alciones from Naslin, and Pandions from Aphrael. And like every body else, the gods have different personalities and tolerances. Romalic for instance, is extremely formal and does not approve of any adaptations to the spells and magic that he's already accepted. Hanka is a bit more easy going and gives a lot of leeway in the wording and gestures. Naslin is a little freer with the gestures but demands strict adherence to the wording.

And Aphrael, well she'll listen so long as it's in Styric and she's taken a liking to you. Sparhawk doesn't even have to ask her, he just tells her what he wants, and she give shim the power to do it. See the power to do the spells comes from the Gods, but it's still the caster who creates the spell and it's effects. So when Ulath asked Hanka for a light against shadow, Hanka gave his access to his power, and Ulath created the form of the sphere using Hanka's power. He could have just as easily made a lantern, or a square or anything that gave off the light he wanted. If I had appealed to Naslin, I would have had to spell out not only why I wanted the power, but also exactly what and how I was going to use it.

So I would have had to tell him that I needed his power to create a sphere of light to brighten the area around me. With the Cyrinnics, they would have also had to explain how strong a light they needed and how long they needed it for. And the Pandions would have only had to say I need some light here, and Aphrael would have brightened the whole thing like midday until they told her they didn't need it anymore."

Garion nodded, feeling a little more clear regarding the subject. "So with your brand of magic, the power comes from the gods, but it still takes your will to shape it into the effect you want." Seeing them nod, Garion shook his head. "That's a lot different from the way my magic works. For us, the Power and the Will all comes from within ourselves. Each of us, who can perform magic, can only do as much as we are capable of handling. So I have more general 'power' then others like me, and as long as I have a strong enough will, I am stronger then another and can therefore do more.

And gestures are totally useless for us, but we still need to say a word. It doesn't matter what the word it, as long as it doesn't make us loose hold of what we want to do. We have to believe that something will happen because we want it to. So, for me, if I wanted that tree over there to fall over, all I would need to do was gather my power by concentrating on what I want done, then say a word to release my gathered Will. Fall." Garion stated, and the tree ripped from the ground with a thunderous crack and flew back to slam into the soft ground. "Oops. Used a little too much power there."

Ulath and Tynian exchanged amazed looks. They had never seen anything like it. While they could have duplicated the effects of Garion's demonstration, it would have taken a lengthy speech of Styric, and complicated gestures to perform. Garion had done it with apparent ease and in fact seemed annoyed at the results. It seemed he had only wanted to knock the tree over, not rip it out of the earth and send it flying more then twenty feet. And it wasn't like it was a small tree. The tree was huge, likely as thick across as Ulath's height. It no doubt weighed several tons and would have taken several hours of work with Ulath's axe or a lumber mill saw to cut through.

"Er, what exactly, can you do?" Tynian asked. "What's the limit? I mean, the gods grant us a lot of freedom, but there are things they just won't allow us to do."

Garion shrugged. "I don't really know my limits now. When I was about 15, I did raise a horse and my aunt's husband from the dead though. It was hard then, but I'm a lot more powerful now. I wouldn't want to try and bring the dead back, but I'm pretty sure I could easily do that. I could probably raise or level mountains and seas, wipe out entire forests, kill thousands with a single word. I'm a little rusty though. I haven't been a human often in recent years. I've spent most of the last 40 000 years or so as various animals, mostly a wolf or hawk. I can't even remember the last time I was human before yesterday."

Tynian and Ulath shared another look, this one filled with fear and worry. If their new friend was indeed as old and powerful as he claimed, as well as being something of an elder brother to their God, then what could they do to stop him should he turn out to have less then honorable intentions? As far as they knew the only thing powerful enough to cause the effects Garion described was the Bhelliom, which he was seeking and which Sparhawk had once wielded. But Bhelliom was gone, so even if Sparhawk had it and could use it against this man, he seemed to be a match in power for the living stone. Even the Styric gods could not singularly work the damage Garion described, though they doubted that there was nothing the Thousand couldn't accomplish when working together.

"That's truly amazing, Garion. I don't think any of the Thousand could do that on their own, and they are gods, despite what the church teaches." Ulath stated, wondering as he spoke if he should mention the disparity in power between Garion and the Styric gods.

Garion just shrugged while moving from between the horses to a little ahead. The trail narrowed ahead through a strand of trees and they would only be able to pass in single line formation. "Well, I don't know what your church teaches, but Eriond knows that other gods exists, so likely, there's been some confusion between what he's said and what your church leaders have heard. If your God ERND really is Eriond and I'm not just confused by the slight similarity in name and history. Which I doubt, since I have spoken to Eriond every now and then, though the last time I had any real conversation with him was about 6 or 7 thousand years ago. He's making no effort to mask his presence and I can feel him around though not enough to pinpoint his whereabouts. Mainly just that the strongest feel of him is in the general direction that you've pointed out as being the direction to Cimmura. I can't tell how close or far though."

"I wouldn't be surprised if He's felt you moving and has gone to Cimmura to wait for you. That's where Sparhawk is, and these sort of things usually end up involving him sooner or later, so even if you hadn't met up with us, I have no doubt you would have found your own way to Cimmura and Sparhawk eventually." Tynian said. He'd loosened his sword in the scabbard and signaled Ulath who had similarly loosened his ax. This part of the trail they were on was a good spot for an ambush, and after the events of the last day or so, it was best they be prepared. The good thing was that this trail opened onto the main trade road from Deira to Ehlania, so if they got through this part, chances where they were in the clear until the village of Uros on the border of the two countries. And once there, they could really begin their planned journey to Cimmura.

"Well, hopefully, they'll be able to help me find the Orb. I think that I'll need it. There's a dark power brewing, and from what those bandits said, it has something to do with the gods of my time." Garion stated missing the twin frowns on the faces of his companion knights. He was moving ahead of them on the path, which was remarkably well maintained for a forest path. While not up to the standards of the long forgotten Tolnedran highway, it was gravel paved and well used, unlike most of the secondary roads he'd traveled on in the years of his youthful journeys.

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Sparhawk was beginning to lose the awe and the near automatic sense of devotion that had filled him when he'd entered and met his God. A dark corner of his mind wondered if there was a problem with coming to see his God as something else. God had been regaling Sparhawk and Aphrael with tales of his birth and the times before his birth, going over a lot of the strange history of his 'brother'. He explained how the line of Riva split from the line of Cherek and the creation of the 4 kingdoms where once stood Aloria. He told of Garion's journey to discover his true destiny and face his fate at Cthol Murgos and of the terrible battle between the young boy-king and the insane god Torak. Sparhawk was enthralled by the story, noting several similarities to his own recent history in the telling. God was obviously a skilled storyteller and he got the sense that the role he'd taken for the church had stifled large parts of the seemingly young man's personality that he was now bringing to the forefront.

If he had not previously been exposed to Aphrael and the chaos that was the Thousand, he would likely have lost his mind at questioning anything regarding his God. He would never have believed that the Creator could seem so oddly normal, sitting crookedly on the pulpit throne, legs over the arm and leaning back while looking at the depiction of him on the ceiling. Or rather, if God was being truthful, looking at a depiction of HIS father, who had been somehow been combined with him as one being. Apparently, from what God had been saying, he had been one of 7 children of the Creator, UL. There had been some kind of accident that resulted in that mistake being given form in the god Torak when he, Eriond, should have been born. The mistake was corrected when this Garion killed Torak much like Sparhawk himself had killed Cyrgon and unmade Azash. Eriond had eventually risen to the role that was destined for him since the creation as God of mankind.

He'd just started ruling over his beloved people when another accident occurred, and somehow, a different set of gods was created. He'd adapted to the situation and sat back, knowing instinctively, that eventually, the time would come when Garion would again take up the Orb and correct the mistake. He'd waited and watched as various gods and lands came and went and noted a cycle. By the time the younger Gods of Styricum willed them self into existence, he'd made the pattern and managed to talk them into fighting when the Elder gods sought to destroy them. With his aid, they had been victorious, and he'd become aware of an absence that had clouded his mind. The Orb of Aldur was no more. Now there was only Bhelliom, the Blue-Rose. And Bhelliom was angry in much the way the Orb had been angered by Torak. He had known that Bhelliom was crafted and carved from the Orb and that the carving had caused it to feel pain. This forced the Orb's youthful essence to harden and mature into becoming the force Sparhawk had known.

Eriond had explained that the Orb had been like a child, playful and mischievous, but that the carving had matured it into the adult persona Sparhawk had known. He speculated that the persona Sparhawk had interacted with was the true essence of the being they called Bhelliom, but that in being trapped on this world during it's formation, its mind had been fractured and the playful essence had been all that remained. Until the pain of the carving awoke the true 'essence'. Ghwerig had awakened the true being of the jewel, and had been as obsessed with it as Torak had the plain Orb. And like Torak, the Orb had rejected Ghwerig's touch, especially after the troll had carved the stone into the shape of a rose.

"So this Orb of Aldur and Bhelliom are the same? And you think a 50 thousand-year-old man, who looks in his early to mid twenties, has been wandering the world looking for the stone? Which was really a super powerful force of nature trapped into the form of the stone during the creation of the world by all the iron dust that surrounded its essence? That one of these original gods, a son of the creator of the universe, found the stone and gently formed it into a perfect sphere. Only for the dwarf troll Ghwerig to come along some 60 plus thousand years later and damage the mind of the essence by carving it's physical form into a rose? Now, not only is this 50 thousand year old man seeking the stone, but a powerful enemy, one that not even the gods can identify or find, is seeking to stop the man from getting the stone, so that he/it can continue it's plan to take over the world?"

Eriond nodded, waving idly while conjuring an apple. They weren't as good as the once that had grown in the vale, but they were still quite tasty. "That's about it. Right now, I just wanted to let you know what was happening since you and Aphrael are the last people to really have contact with the Bhelliom. I know you released the essence into freedom, but with Garion's help, and a little boost from myself and some of the Thousand, you should be able to contact Bhelliom. I'm sure it would be happy to lend us aid, even if it doesn't want to be trapped again in the physical form, it should be able to reawaken your inherited powers. With a little training from Garion and myself, you would be able to handle nearly any challengers. Between you and Garion, you'll be powerful enough to fight off any of the elder gods, including the 7. The only being with near the power to defeat you would be UL himself, and I know He's not involved."

"But what about this Sardion you mentioned? Is it Klael in another form, or something else?"

Eriond sighed. "I don't know. Klael was ... Klael was the ultimate evil. He would make Torak look like a child. But the Sardion had a very different ... feel then Klael. I think that for once, the usual rules were reversed. I think that the Dark had split its main force into several smaller forces while the Light had created only 1 source of power. So while the Orb had it's opposite in the Sardion, and Bhelliom had its nemesis in Klael, Klael and Sardion were two different forces. The worst thing that could happen would be for Klael and Sardion to combine as one being. Unlike the Orb, Sardion wasn't all that intelligent. It was more powerful then Klael but had only a basic intelligence. It was a tool for more intelligent beings. Klael was and is quite smart. We might have defeated him here, but he has won countless battles against Bhelliom on countless worlds. If Klael were to somehow gain control of Sardion and entice the stone to give him its power he'd be unstoppable. And I have no doubt that he would return to win this world."

"We must not allow that to happen, Sparhawk." Aphrael stated. "No matter what else happens, we must find this new enemy and stop them before they are able to finish whatever it is they are planning. We must get Garion in touch with the Bhelliom, without his destroying us in his rage at learning of its fate. Garion could be our greatest ally, or a threat to the very fabric of reality, Sparhawk. He must be treated very carefully. He's wandered the world alone, in non-human form, for over 40 thousand years. You know what it's like to be isolated for long times from all meaningful contact with others. But you can't imagine how much worse it is in Garion's case. 2, 3 years is nothing when put against his 40 thousand. Even the most stable person will change after so long alone without any of his loved ones and no hope of seeing any of them again."

"So you think he might be unstable? That his isolation might have caused his mind to become diseased?" Sparhawk asked, suppressing a shudder at the reminder of the last time he'd had to deal with someone who was sick in the head. He still woke at nights sometimes recalling the horrible things he'd witnessed in the dungeons of Azash.

"No, or he wouldn't be as much of a threat as he could be." Eriond replied. "The brand of magic that he uses requires a very powerful will. The insane aren't able to concentrate on their will hard enough to be a threat. Garion might be a little focused though. Not insane in the normal definition, but completely stuck on the goal of getting the Orb back and ending his own existence. He likely wants nothing more then to rejoin his family, who have been dead for all these years. If you try to stop him outright from his goal, he'll just go through you, and quite honestly, there's nothing any of you or the Thousand could do to stop him. I might be able to, but that is not something that I want to see happen. To stop him, I'd almost have to cause more damage then would happen if I left him alone.

I'm not certain if he's powerful enough now to beat me in battle, but I've never really been a fighter, and he's been fighting for survival since he was a babe in his mother's arms. I might have more raw power, but I've never had to really use it in battle, except for a small portion of the battles between the Elder and Younger Styric Gods. And compared to what Garion's faced, those were less then training skirmishes. You would have a better chance of beating him in battle, though I doubt you have the power to do more then delay him."

"If he's so powerful, how come he's hidden himself away? And why didn't any of the Elder Gods or the Thousand know about him until recently?"

"Because he was not in human form. He's only been in human form for very short periods of time over the last 50 thousand years. For less then a year in total over all that time. The rest of the time he was in the guise of various beasts, living in the wild as one of them. When you take another form like that, you have a different ... aura then you do when in human form. The same where Aphrael might project the guise of a sweet little girl, but you and I both know she's a scoundrel and a thief."

"Hey!" exclaimed the goddess under discussion, not liking the characterization of herself as a scoundrel. She couldn't really object to being called a thief, since she was quite proud of that part of her talents.

"Don't worry, Aphrael dear. We love you any way." Eriond replied with an indulgent smile on his youngish face.

"So what can we do? We aren't strong enough to stop Garion, and you don't know of any force powerful enough to stop him, yet someone or something is trying to stop him from getting to what he wants. And what he wants no longer exists on this world. There's a hidden force trying to gain control of the entire world through the resurrection of belief in the 7 Gods of the Beginning Times. Gods who wouldn't take kindly to being used as a rallying point for whoever is behind this scheme. The only people you think could have done this are all dead or destroyed, either by myself in the last 15 years or so, or by this Garion more then 50 thousand years ago. How are we supposed to find out who is behind this if the only people capable of it have been dead for so long?"


	5. Chapter 5

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from Belgariad more then 30x each, and the Mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster saying a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for his use. Which words they use and which gestures are important, as they have to be framed in a certain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the belief that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will (power) and so the Word (anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

To answer a few reviews:

First Thank YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING AND READING. I can not express my thanks enough to any one who has read or reviewed my works, especially this one.

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Garion was pleased with the journey so far. They were making good time, considering they'd decided to bring some of the dead along and had had to gather their horses and gear. They'd dropped the extra horses, bodies, and gear with the local constabulary and made a stop by the Pandion chapter house, where they'd learned that Sparhawk had already sent out letters for them. Ulath and Tynian had just shrugged and muttered something about suspicious coincidences and interfering gods, but Garion hadn't understood their meaning.

He knew he could have gotten to Cimmura himself much faster in wolf or hawk form, but stayed human, wanting to get used to being in his true body before he had to test himself in battle. He was a few millennia out of practice, even if he had had centuries of experience, he needed to get back into the proper form and regain the battle instincts he'd worked so long to learn. Spending most of the last 50000 as one animal or another had dulled his instincts. He'd had to actually think during the little skirmish against the brigands instead of reacting the way he'd been taught. His first reaction had been to bite and claw the men instead of using the sword.

He glanced up at the sun, judging the time and noting it was well past mid day. They had not stopped for a mid day meal, but had instead eaten on the hoof, snacking on hard travel bread, jerky, and cheese supplied by the Pandion chapterhouse at the border. They had also gotten a horse for Garion to ride, though at first he had resisted. He hadn't ridden a horse since the death of Chretienne. And that was more years ago then he cared to remember at this time. Tynian and Ulath had also traded the gear and horses they'd captured in for some spare mounts as they didn't want to ride their horses to death.

"So tell me more about your friends. I would like to know a bit about the people I'm going to meet." Garion stated as the three rode abreast of each other on the wide trail.

So Tynian went on to explain about their friends. He told Garion the story behind the first journey searching for the Bhelliom in order to cure Ehlana of the poison given to her by the corrupt Annias and her cousin Lycheas. He then gave a bit of history on the relation between the two and some of the more recent events to affect the world before going on to explain about Klael and Bhelliom. It struck Garion how familiar these quests sounded compared to his own life, at least his time from scullion boy to Overlord of the West.

He could see some parallels between his life and Sparhawk's. Both had fought gods, and beings more powerful gods. They'd done so to save not only the world they knew, but more importantly for the safety of the women they loved. Both had powerful lineage's that had been at least partially hidden from them for most their lives. And both had been the sole people to be able to handle and control the forces of existence contained within the form of the supernaturally intelligent stones known as the Orb of Aldur and the Blue-Rose.

He'd even seen some ties between people he had known and those Tynian described. Ulath bore a striking resemblance in both appearance and personality to Barak, Ehlana sounded like she was a lot like Ce'Nedra in personality if not appearance. This Sephrenia they spoke off sounded similar to both Aunt Pol and Grandmother. The one he called Talen reminded him of what a young Silk must have been like. Bevier reminded him somewhat of Manderallen. And so many more besides. Even such connections as Wargun reminding him of Anheg.

In turn he explained about his friends and family, and pointed out several of the similarities in the two sets of people. In the back of his mind, he wondered about the possibility of this new group being descended from his long dead friends and associates, but shrugged. After 50000 years, it no longer mattered if they were related to his friends. He could not fall into the trap of assuming that just because of a few similarities, that the people he would encounter would be in any way like those he had known. He felt no pain at the thought of all those he had lost and even the pain at loosing his beloved Dryad queen no longer hurt as much. It was time to let go the past and look to the future. A danger was rising in the world, and he might soon be reunited with an old and dear friend. And there was even a chance that the person he considered his younger brother might still be alive and taking part in the world, though in a more advanced and limited capacity.

He was once more being drawn against his will to face threats of dire proportions. He would do his best to protect those in need of his strength, and then maybe, he would find a way to rest. Unless he was able to find some purpose in life, he would find a way to end it. He had lived long enough. There was nothing for him in the world anymore. He might no longer hurt as much, but he still longed to join his family in oblivion.

"So then, there was a kind of bidding war for Talen. Everyone wanted to get a piece of him. Dolmant wanted him for the church, Stragen and Platime tried grooming to lead a Thieves Council, each of the orders wanted him for their own, and several different rulers wanted him to lead their councils. But Sparhawk outbid them all really. No one really wanted to go against the will of someone who had killed one god in battle and destroyed another by overpowering his will."

Garion filed away yet another similarity in the world he knew and the world he was entering. These people also knew of the difference between killing someone and destroying them.

"There's another thing this Sparhawk and I have in common." Garion noted idly, his eyes darted to the woods where he could hear some faint rustlings of animals tracking them. "I also killed a God in a sword fight. I've never destroyed anyone, but someone I know did destroy himself to keep me from doing something that terrified him."

"What was that?" Ulath asked, though it took Garion a moment to realize that the giant Genidian was referring to the movements in the bushes along the trail and not to the statement he'd just made.

Garion took a moment to glance again into the bushes and saw the slinking movement of a form he knew very well. "It's just some wolves trailing us, or rather me, through their territory."

"How do know that?" Tynian asked, loosening the tie on his sword.

Garion chuckled. "I learned at a very young age how to speak and live like a wolf. I know how they think. To you and others I might seem like a human being, but to wolves, I am one of them. And when a strange, lone wolf comes into an established packs territory, it's usually to challenge the alpha for leadership. Right now, he's trying to figure out why I'm hiding looking like one of you." Garion pulled his horse to a stop and the knights copied him. He leapt off the horse and unbuckled the sword. He placed it on the saddle and also removed all the other little bits of metal. He then stepped away from the horses so as not to spook them, and looked over his shoulder. "Whatever happens, do nothing. I'll take care of this." Seeing them nod, he turned to look into the forest just as the alpha, his mate, and several betas came slinking out of the cover of the tree line.

Garion studied the pack, knowing that most were still in the trees watching to see what happened. He waited until the wolf pack was a dozen lengths then shifted back to wolf form. He could tell by the markings on the back of the otherwise brownish wolf that he was an old hand. "Greetings old one. One wishes the best for ones pack."

"One wonders what one is doing young old pup?" the, by wolf standard, ancient alpha asked. "Why is one hiding among the two legs and travelling through the territory of ones pack."

"One is simply travelling from one place to another and has no thoughts to harm or seek to take anything from one's pack, old one. One travels with the two legs and finds it is easier travelling if one takes their form so as not to frighten the beasts of burden."

"One is pleased that one has no desire to harm the pack. One would not wish to battle one such as you. One has lead the pack many winters and will soon need to pass leadership to another. One had hoped that the leadership would pass to one of one's own pups." the old head swung to look at the three betas who had followed him and his mate to meet the odd wolf.

"One is pleased at the evidence of the strength of your leadership. You have raised strong young pups who will lead well when they are ready." Garion stated his tail flicking to indicated pride in the strength of the old ones pack and pups.

"One gives thanks for your praise and pleasure that one has not had to fight you. One will take ones pack and return to the hunt. One hopes your journey is swift and your prey a worthy challenge for your strength. good hunting, young old one."

"Good hunting old one." Garion waited until they had all disappeared before returning to human form. He redressed into the bits he'd removed and slid the sheath and sword back into place before swinging back up onto the horses back. "We're set." he stated at the two who were watching him.

"Good conversation then?" Ulath asked, not put out at all that Garion had just changed into a wolf and back.

"Just assuring the pack leader that I didn't want to fight him for control of the pack or to steal any of their prey or females. Like I said, wolves are territorial and they consider anything in their territory as belonging to them, either for protection or for prey. I, as a wolf outside the tribe, had to justify my reason for crossing their territory. If they didn't like my reason, or if I had a negative reason for being here, they would have attack us."

Ulath blinked, looking back into the forest as the horses began to trot lightly down the road. "So you told him you were just passing through and didn't want anything that was theirs."

"That's about it. He was also curious why I was hiding as a human, so I told him it was easier for you and safer not to frighten the horses."

Ulath grunted and moved on to more important things. "We'll rest once the sun sets. We won't make a fire and we'll camp off the trail in the woods. If need be, we can chop down a few trees. There's a woodshop about an hour's rider from the place we should be stopping if we keep this pace. A distant cousin of Kurik's lives there and he wouldn't mind us saving him some time by chopping the trees down and preparing them near the edge of the road for him to get with his large hauling wagon. He makes some furniture and stuff that sell well in Cimmura and surrounding villages."

Garion just nodded, trusting in his new companions knowledge of the area and time constraints. He didn't really have any particular need to hurry. He'd waited 50 millennia after all. He could wait a few more days.

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"So you weren't able to learn anything else, Aphrael?" Sparhawk asked while sitting on the grass bench and petting the white deer that always came to him when he visited Aphrael's little world.

The child goddess was pacing back and forth among the various animals, absently patting them and stroking their fur to calm them as they picked up on her agitation. She was looking more worried and concerned then Sparhawk could ever recall seeing her. She was muttering in several languages, most of which he couldn't understand. From the odd word here and there he could pick up, he could guess at what she was saying.

"Nothing. Noting at all. No one in the Thousand knows anything about what's going on. We can't find the source of those surges we feel, we can only tell that it's moving. If ERND is right, then the person coming is a suicidal, 50 000 year old man who looks like he's in his 20s, and is powerful enough to defeat all of the Thousand in open battle." She flopped down onto her throne of branches. "I just don't know what we could do to stop him if this Garion is the source of the danger we've been feeling. And if he's not the source of danger, then that just means that there's a potentially even more dangerous and powerful person behind all these troubles."

"Do you think we might try reaching Bhelliom and seeing if there's something it can do?" Sparhawk asked, not entirely comfortable making the suggestion, but knowing that one of them had to say it aloud.

Aphrael sighed and looked sadly over her little world. "I don't think we could make it hear us anymore, Sparhawk. When it left, it did so knowing it would never come back. If it returns here, then that would allow Klael to return as well, and I for one never wish to see that monstrous being again."

Sparhawk shuddered at the mention of the Bhelliom's ancient enemy. He was quite certain that no one who had encountered that beast and lived wished to ever see or feel it's presence again.

"That's not something I think anyone wants to happen. But how do we know that we can trust Klael to stay away from this world anyway? If it's really as smart and evil as you and Bhelliom say, then what's to stop it from going back on the defeat and coming back to take this world from Bhelliom?"

Aphrael sighed, not sure how to explain. "Believe it or not, Sparhawk, that has happened only 1 time in all of existence. And it lead to a situation that could have wiped the universe from existence. Lucky, the situation was resolved long before any of the Styric or Elder gods came into being. Strangely enough, from what I understand after talking with ERND these last few days, it was Garion who fixed that problem. He refuses to explain more, saying only that part of it had to do with his own birth into god-hood. Judging from what he isn't saying, it likely has to do with the god Garion is supposed to have killed, this Torak."

The little goddess stood and started pacing again. "Torak was one of several results to Klael breaking the rules. His very existence was due to Klael doing just what you fear. He tried to subvert a world he had lost to Bhelliom back to his control, and the powers that guide the universe destroyed the entire galaxy that the planet was in. Billions of beings and planets gone in seconds because Klael broke the rules. Eriond was stuck in the body of a toddler for millennia, his mind locked as that of a child of his apparent age. And instead of him being the god of Angarak, Torak was created to fill the void. And Torak was a jealous, petty, narcissus who wanted nothing more then the worship of all mankind and control of everything in the world. He took one look at the Orb of Aldur, which we now know WAS a still confused and childlike Bhelliom, and sought to possess and control its' power. This Garion, who's name in the annals of history is Belgarion, was created as a means to correct the error of Klael's greed. He had to kill Torak and raise up the boy ERND to his proper and rightful position as God of mankind."

"And now someone or something is trying to cause another problem by bringing back these ancient gods to power and sweeping away the thousand?" Sparhawk asked. "I've had reports of growing bands of bandits attacking villages and claiming that they are soldiers of the 7 Gods of Man. This person or thing has been spreading through most of the continent sowing discord and anger among the peasantry towards the Church and the Styrics. It's become such a threat that a person out of a time so long past it's been forgotten even by the gods, has come out of wherever he's been hiding in order to combat this threat. And not only that, but this person out of hiding is seeking the one object that would allow him to die, yet that object no longer exists on this world." Sparhawk rubbed his eyes and slumped as best he could on the soft grass mound and surrounding bodies of white beasts. "I hate to say it, Aphrael, but I think we're in between a rock and a hard place. If God says that Garion will battle this threat, then I can't deny HIS judgement. But what happens if we defeat this threat, then what happens when we tell Garion that we CAN'T give him his Orb since it longer exists in this world."

His face became grim and he leaned forward, meeting Aphrael's eyes for the first time since entering the dream realm. "And what can any of us do to stop him if he gets angry with us for letting it go?"

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A cloaked figure sat staring out into the empty courtyard of his captured stronghold. His followers were growing in number, and he'd even found a few capable of the use of his brand of magic compared to the weak prayer spells common in this age. His plans were proceeding at a decent rate of success and speed. His latest attempt to draw out the last remaining wielders of the Will and Word had been successful in part. He'd felt only one presence, a very powerful presence that was only vaguely familiar to him. By the lack of familiarity and the power, he knew that it was not Belgarath who had resurfaced, nor was it Polgara or any of his other brothers. This left only the young child-king Belgarion. This struck him as a likely candidate for the source of the power he felt as he had not known the Heir of Riva at all until his supposed demise.

While he had hidden himself away, he had felt the power wielded by the child-king as he defeated the god Torak in armed battle, and later outsmarted that foolish woman Zandramas who had bet that Belgarion would be too sentimental to not pass his power on to his own flesh and blood. He had tried guiding the woman, but she had refused all his offers of aid and suggestions for strategies. Instead she had kidnapped the Godslayer's only son and tried to play on his love for the child over his duty to the world.

He stood and went to the large window, gazing at the sky. He scanned it for the area that had once held nothing but empty space and sneered as he stared at the now starlit area. He felt small surges of sound indicating someone using the Will and Word and traced them to their source. It was only his few apprentices, working on the lessons he had left them. He had not patience for teaching, and had none in his first life either. So he had taken a method from the heathen Styrics and their pathetic godlings and written down a series of exercises designed to increase his students strength and control. Some had decent levels of power, possibly equal to the twins or the hunchback, but no where near Polgara or Belgarath, who had always been the strongest of Aldur's chosen. Save for the Godslayer, who had finally come out of hiding. Now he just had to find out who else was still around that he might have to battle or kill. He would step up the attacks. It was time for his followers to stop hiding and show themselves. He would bring power back to his gods and the names of the true gods would again be on the minds and hearts of the people. It was that or death.

Either way worked for him.


	6. Chapter 6

This story is a xover of David Eddings works of Belgariad/Mallorean and Elenium/Tamuli series. I love those books. I've read the 5 from Belgariad more then 30x each, and the Mallorean at least dozen times. And the Elenium/Tamuli books I've likely read nearly a dozen times each.

Just a recap: Pandions ask for Aphrael, Genidians ask for Hanka, Cyrinnics ask Romalic, and here, Alciones ask for Naslin. When I say ask, I mean pray/cast spells. Since in the E/T world, magic is done by the caster saying a prayer spell to ask the gods to do something for his use. Which words they use and which gestures are important, as they have to be framed in a certain manner for the Gods to consider doing what is asked of them. Unlike in B/M where the power is inside the person and they just need to have the belief that what they want to happen will happen. Then they pull in their Will (power) and say the Word (anything, no special words, just an aural cue to release the gathered Will) Gestures not needed, but done for extra effect on witnesses.

To answer a few reviews:

First Thank YOU ALL FOR REVIEWING AND READING. I can not express my thanks enough to any one who has read or reviewed my works, especially this one.

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Sparhawk watched as his daughter played with her cat. The little feline was the same age as when she'd gotten it, and he wondered how no one else seemed to notice that Mrr never seemed to grow any larger or suffer the signs of old age common to a cat nearly 10 years old. The stuffed toy she'd inherited from her mother was sitting nearby, still seeeming to look to fall apart at any moment, and he chuckled as he realised that if not for the fact tthat his daughter was the heir to the throne, she would have put away such a childs toy long ago in search of a husband.

But Danea had chosen her husband at an age much similar to that of her mother and as far as he was concerned, she could remain a child for as long as she wanted. He wasn't ready to see her off and married just yet. Talen was starting to shape up into a fine knight, but he still had too much of the thief in him for Sparhawk's frame of mind. Still, if Danea had to marry, he would rather she marry someone he knew and trusted with his life then someone he didn't know or respect. And he did know and respect Talen, and knew that the young man would never do anything to harm Danea.

Though it might take a search team some time to track him down once he realised the trap Danea had set for him.

"Danea, can I speak to you for a moment? About those treats you'd asked about?" he asked quietly, not wanting to risk any one over hearing. Ehlana was sitting in her chair, trying to knit. Mirtai, pregnant once again and visiting with Kring and their oldest children, was fretting over Ehlana, loudly wondering how the woman could be still be so thin after such a long time. Platime, Stragen, Kalten and Talen were in a corner playing a game of dice. Sephrenia and Valen had gone to bring their daughter to their rooms as she had grown tired and cranky. Kahlad, Bevier, and Berit were having some kind of theological discussion on the validity of the history of gods.

The little girl looked up and studied the others for a moment before blinking. She turned to Sparhawk, and he could see the shift in her eyes as she made the mental change from Danea to Aphrael. "What do you want to talk about, Sparhawk? I'm very busy right now, and it's a lot of effort just to have Danea this active. I was almost going to have her head to bed when Sephrenia and Valen left, but then how would I later have her know stuff that she wasn't around to hear."

Sparhawk frowned and just sighed as the comlex nature of his daughter showed itself once again. "Never mind that now, Aphrael. How long will it be before Tynian and Ulath get here. You said something about this Garion travelling with them since you aren't about to feel them the way you normaly do. Something about interference from a strong source of power."

The child goddess frowned and turned to look at their friends. "People give off a kind of echo. It's not sound or smell, but it is a kind of combination of the two. Usually I can track people depending on how familliar I am with their echo. Tynian and Ulath were hunting not far from the border. Then their echo was replaced with one a thousand times more powerful that covered an area of several leagues in every direction. And not just the directions you use, but also up to the sky and down below the ground. Gods are limitted by the flat level humans are, so we're able to feel things that you aren't able to detect. So as long as someone is in this world, I can usually find them. But this other presence is blocking Ulath and Tynian's completely, from ALL directions and senses. It's like a shadow has shown up on the world and is spreading it's influence. Except that the shadow doesn't seem to be a threat. There is a threat that is growing, but it's a long distance away in a place I can't reach."

"So you do think it's this Garion person with our missing friends? You are sure nothing has happened to them?" Sparhawk asked, worried about the two knights.

"If they had died, I would have felt it, even through the interference. Like I lost a part of myself. And Hanka and Raslin would also have felt it. Whenever one of the thousand looses a follower, and despite what you say, the Order Knights are technically our followers, we feel their passing. Like a part of our self was lost. You'd feel it if a finger was cut off, right? We'll that's sort of the feeling we get."

Sparhawk stood and moved over to the window to look out over his city, his home. He'd spent long years in dry dessert country because of the actions of Annias and Ortha. Years he should have been here to help his beloved Queen find a husband worthy of her and protecting her city. He felt cheated by those lost years. He was too old for the adventure that was about to take place. He'd been fighting for more then 30 years now, and each of those years and the lives he'd taken weighed heavily on his mind and were marked in the scars on his body.

"I'm tired of this, Aphrael. I've been fighting my whole life, and I want it to stop. I almost don't care if this evil you're so scared of does take over, so long as it leaves me and my family alone." Sparhawk said as he moved back to his seat and took his former position. "What do you think is going to happen, Aphrael? How much longer can I do this and survive? Your mother deserves to have me with her for as long as I have left. I don't want to go on the trail again, hunting down endless clues, just to end up going somewhere we all knew the problem was but were too foolish to not simply go in the first place. I can't do it any more."

Aphrael was worried. She'd never heard Sparhawk sound so defeated and lost. If not for the natural shields that were a part of his nature as Anhaka, she would suspect that someone was fooling around with his mind. But his nature obscured him from any source seeking to alter his mind or emotions. So this was all his own raw emotion, emotions he'd likely hidden even from himself. And she had to admit, if only to herself, that he had something of a point. He had done more to protect the world then most people, and had suffered more loss then any one had a right to ask of him while doing so. But the same factor that had tired him, also meant he was the only one capable of doing what needed to be done. No other person would be able to handle what was asked of him and emerge victorious. That was why he was Anhaka and that was what being Anhaka entailed. Finding the way to prevail, even when all hope is lost.

"I don't know, Sparhawk. I know it's not fair, and it's not right for us to ask more of you, but the sad fact is, you are the only one capable of doing what needs to be done. The rest of us can only help you reach the place where the deed must be finished, but it comes down to you to accomplish what ever it is that needs doing. We will support you as best we can, but it is you who must decide whether it is best to let the world fall into darkness, or to do what you must to ensure life continues as freely as it can." Aphrael hugged the man, noticing for the first time just how old and worn the knight was. There was a slackness to his frame that had never been there and years of peace had caused his powerful body to fade into a shadow of it's former strength. "I love you father, no matter what happens. You've been the best father I've had in a very long time."

Sparhawk chuckled and hugged the goddess. "Now, why don't you go back to Danea and head to bed. I think I want to spent some alone time with your mother."

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Garion frowned. He was getting tired of all the delays. He could feel the tug of the orb getting stronger and knew they were getting closer to the source. But they weren't moving fast enough. Tynian and Ulath had been drafted into travelling guard over a caravan of pilgrims heading to Cimura and he was stuck trailing after them.

He moved over to Tynian's side since the blonde knight was easier to speak to then the giant Ulath. "I don't know why you agreed to do this. We're travelling too slowly." he muttered quietly.

Tynian sighed and looked down at the odd man matching the pace with the horses. Granted it was a gentle gait only a bit quicker then a plodding walk, but still, the man moved as though he could outpace one of the Peloi's quickest racers. "Garion, I understand that you are in a hurry, but it's the duty of all of the Orders to give aid and defend the faithful in any waay possible unless under orders from a higher source. Ulath and I could no more ignore out duty, then you could have ignored yours." Tynian didn't know toomuch about their new travelling companion, but he'd learned enough to know that duty was a very imnportant -if frustrating and often hated- concept the other man.

Garion sighed. 'Duty. It always comes down to duty. It's always me who has to do the painful things, who has to suffer because it's my DUTY and only I can do what needs to be done.' he thought bitterly to himself. "Sometimes Tynian, I'd like to kill whoever thought up the idea of 'duty'. My entire life has been one 'duty' after another. Some I didn't mind. Xe'Nedra was the first major 'duty' of my life, and I could never complain about her. But others, Tynian. Some of the other 'duties' I've had forced on me should have destroyed me. I had to watch everyone and everything I ever loved die because it was MY 'DUTY' to live. I had to choose a course that I thought would kill MY OWN SON because of the 'duty' I had to the rest of the world. I have spent countless years wandering the world and watching every place I knew vanish as the very face of the world changed. All because it was MY 'DUTY'. Don't speak to me of 'duty', Tynian, for you know NOTHING about the horrors of 'Duty'." Garion stopped speaking and moved forward, matching the pace of the lead wagon while ignoring the looks the pilgrims gave him.

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AN

For those who guessed the mysterious figure at the end of Ch5 was Zedart, you are . . .wrong. I had toyed with Zedar for a while be decided he was too obvious. I woudl suggest going back and rereading that section of my story closely. It's stated fairly clearly that the figure had not interacted with the group during the events of the Belgariad. Zedar most certainly did take part in those events, and could not have tried to gie advice to Zandramas since at that time he was encased in a few thousand feet of solid bedrock.


End file.
